


Neera

by SwissPear



Series: Neera [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Mandalorian Culture, Original Character(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Plotty, Sexual Tension, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwissPear/pseuds/SwissPear
Summary: A shunned Mandalorian searches for a way back to her people. Mando is going to find it’s hard to maintain the air of mystery when someone knows more about his culture than he does.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Neera [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992661
Comments: 39
Kudos: 274





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din as a child
> 
> (originally part of Neera Part II, but thought it set up the story nicely as a Prologue in Neera I)

Little Din chucked the ball against the wall again. In the months since he had ended up here, he had discovered that this was by far the best wall. The stone was rough, and it sent the ball careening back at unpredictable angles. It was almost like having someone else there to throw it back to him. 

The practice helmet he wore shifted every time he lunged for the ball. It was slightly too big for him, and he had to hold it in place each time he dove for the ball. Sek had told him the real one would fit better. 

He still hadn't told Sek what he had decided, but when he did, he would be resolute and confident, and Sek would know he had picked a kid who would be a good fit. He was going to do it soon. Any day now. 

Sek kept reminding him that whatever he decided, he would still have a home, that he could always stay here with Magda. Din wrinkled his nose at the thought. She smelled like spices and onions and would sing out of tune and muss his hair while she made him help with the cooking. And she saw when he still cried. The few times he still had nightmares, she would come running in. He would have been fine without her, but then she would hug him and stroke his hair just like his mom used to; it made him feel like a little boy. He hated it. She would be sad when he made his decision; he knew she would miss squeezing him with hugs and tussling his hair, but she would have to be strong. 

They weren't really nightmares anyway. He had had nightmares before, and this was different. The images were always there; he just that, at night, he just had nothing to distract himself with at night. He was fine when he was training or practicing fighting; Magda just needed to let him do those things. Sek had let him try throwing a grenade once. The smell and sound of the explosion had been like a little piece of the nightmare images he could look at, feel one bit at a time in the light of day. 

He threw the ball again when he saw a ship coming overhead.

Sek would come looking for him. It was a perfect time to try out his new hiding spot and see if Sek could spot him. 

Din crawled up to his new secret spot in the tree. At first, Sek had played at being encouraging during their games of hide-and-seek— 'sniper and scout' as Sek called it—but later, he was honestly impressed. He said Din had a natural talent for laying perfectly still and blending in with his surroundings.

Din wanted to show him this spot, but it was also too good to give up. The leaves moving in the wind perfectly hid any shapes and movement within the limbs, allowing him to lay relaxed against the branch while still within earshot of the landing pad. 

The ship landed, hatch opening to reveal another one of these armored people walking out to survey the field. The figure disappeared back inside, and then five kids came tumbling out. They all looked somewhere around his age, all armored and in helmets, or at least practice helmets in the littlest one. Each kid immediately snapped to attention when the adult figure walked back out. He could tell it was a woman; he knew how to tell that despite the armor. Her armor was a royal blue, six stars painted on the breastplate.

The kids playfully elbowed each other to stand at attention. Din bet they had been trained in the same things Sek had taught him. They would probably be impressed by this hiding spot, and he bet they wouldn't be able to find him the whole time they were here. 

The woman walked out to meet Sek, who passed right under the tree on his way out to meet her. She was looking around, asking him something, and he looked around as well but then shook his head and shrugged. 

They were talking for a bit. She seemed to be asking him something, but he just looked down, then soberly shook his head. She responded with only an understanding nod. Finally, she reached back to a bag, pulled out a shining silver helmet, and presented it to Sek. That seemed to catch a few of the kids' attention, who were now attentively staring at the exchange. Sek put a hand on the woman's arm, then took the helmet from her. 

Din turned his attention to the kids as the adults continued to talk. He smirked when they still had no idea he was there. The smallest one, who looked to be about four or five, had found Din's forgotten ball on the ground. A bigger kid looked to see what he had, then promptly started throwing it to the other big kid. They kept throwing it over the little kid's head, either ignoring him or taunting him while he ran back and forth to try and get it back. There was something wrong with his leg, and he ran with a limp. 

Din watched as one of the middle kids leaned over to whisper something to the other. The next time the big kids threw the ball, the two middle kids promptly grabbed the little one's legs to hoist him high enough to finally intercept the prize. One of them held onto the little kid and ran but immediately tripped over his own big feet, sending them both tumbling down. Laughing, he shouted to the little kid to keep running while he tried to grab the ankle of one of the big kids now giving chase. 

The little kid did what he was told and took off with the ball across the nearby field. Din could see the oversized helmet bobbling along in the field with the kid's awkward little run. 

Din turned back to see the other middle kid holding off the remaining big kid. They started wrestling, the middle kid finally managing to pin the bigger one. There was a shout of "You're cheating!" from the bigger one, the middle kid shouting back, "Am not!" It was a girl's voice, and she only let up on her pin to stop and argue with the other one. 

"You're not allowed to mix fighting styles!" the bigger kid argued. 

"That's stupid," the girl shouted back, immediately going for his leg to throw him on his back again. 

"Mom!" the bigger one shouted. 

Sek and the woman were still talking when she turned to see the chaos behind her. Cursing, she gave Sek an apologetic exit and turned back to the kids. 

"Someone stop your brother before he runs off a cliff or something!" she shouted when she realized the little one was still running away into the field. "Where is he going?" she muttered to herself as she jogged back to the chaos. 

One of the bigger kids finally ran to snatch up the little one, taking him by the hand to walk him back. 

They all immediately snapped to attention when the woman—their mother—reached them. She sternly knelt down in front of the little one and held out her hand to see what he had. He bashfully handed over the ball that wasn't his so she could return it. She set it down, then promptly tossed him over her shoulder; he was giggling and trying to keep his helmet on as she stood up, left hanging upside down along her back. She took her other hand to pick up the middle boy under her arm, playfully toting them both back to the ship. She told the one to wave goodbye for her, and she also called out a final goodbye to Sek before hauling the two of them back to the ship. 

One of the bigger kids took the opportunity of their mother's turned back to chuck the ball at the girl. She managed to dodge it, then tried to chase after it when her mother called her away. She hesitated as the ball bounced back to her, then turned and acquiesced, catching up to the rest as they disappeared inside. The ball rolled after her and only stopped when it hit the edge of the ramp. 

This whole time they hadn't seen him. If they ever came back, he would have to show them this spot and how good it was. He could show them how he had been able to watch everything completely undetected. 

When Sek walked back under his hiding spot, Din latched onto the branch with his legs to swing upside down and appear right in front of Sek. He could see enough response to tell that Sek had been surprised. 

"You missed our guests," Sek pointed out.

"I was watching," Din said.

Sek reached out to help him down. "And do you know why they were here?"

"To bring a helmet for me," Din answered.

"That's right. Have you thought more about what we talked about?"

Din just shrugged. "Was that woman a general?" he asked instead.

Sek seemed surprised. "No, why?"

"The stars on her armor, she had six stars," Din explained.

Sek looked back where the woman with 6 stars and 5 children had been, then glanced at the helmet in his hand. "No, that's not what that meant. I'll— I can explain that later," he hesitated. "She has a different kind of status."

"Do you have any stars?" Din asked. 

"I used to have one," Sek said under his breath, more to himself than to Din. 

"If she's not a general, then what kind of status?" Din asked, proud he used the same word.

Sek laughed, "Community." He paused when he saw Din's confusion. "She's nice. Ferociously so, if others are nice back. If not, she's just plain ferocious. People want to be on the side of a person like that. She gives people an excuse to be kind."

Sek stopped walking and knocked on his head. "Do you want to see the inside of one of these?" 

Din nodded eagerly. Sek popped him up to sit on the barrier behind them and handed him the helmet. It was surprisingly light. 

"Would I train with kids like that?" Din asked as he studied it. 

Sek hesitated. "Not those kids, but I will find you some others."

"Why not them?" Din asked, turning the helmet over in his hands.

Sek was quiet for a bit. "I don't like the way their Clan trains," he finally explained. 

"The little one doesn't walk very good—"

—very well," Sek corrected.

"—very well," Din repeated. "I thought you said you had to be strong to train."

Sek nodded. "He'll have a hard time. Kids born into the Creed won't have the same choice you have. The girls can take care of the young ones, become nannies, but the boys will have fewer options. His mother will do what she can to prepare him, but there's only so much parents can do." Sek stopped and looked at him. "You know that now, right? Parents can do everything in their power, but the world is still a dangerous place. We all have to do our part to protect ourselves and those around us."

Din didn't say anything. Sek turned from him to look over to the house where Magda was watching them, looking none too happy. 

"Magda hopes you will stay with her, get all the hugs you need to feel warm and safe, but hugs don't keep us safe, do they?" Sek asked.

Din frowned and threw a stone at the ground. "She treats me like a little boy," Din complained.

"You are a little boy," Sek snapped. "And little boys can learn to do a lot, while also still missing their parents." 

Sek sighed, then sat down next to him. "Want to try it on?"

Din gave him a questioning look. 

"You can still take it off until you swear the Creed," he assured him. "Do you understand what I mean by the Creed?" Sek asked. 

"You wear the helmet all the time," Din responded. 

"Sort of. It means we put aside our worries, fears, the stories we hoped for ourselves, we put them aside, and we fight," Sek explained. "Even when it means putting aside our own traditions," he trailed off, but Din was already distracted with studying the helmet. 

Din looked up. "Fight for what?"

Sek sighed. "That's...the hard part. You have to trust you'll know it when you see it. Until then, we keep sharpening our knives," Sek added with a playful tussle of Din's hair.

Sek stood and took the helmet from him. "What do you think?" he said, raising the helmet to hold it up for Din.

Din looked back at where the group of kids had just been playing, then turned to Sek. With a small smile, he finally nodded. Sek lowered it on his head and gave it a playful knock. 

Behind them, Magda wiped her eye and turned to walk back inside.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starts up post Season 1

A figure in Mandalorian armor crouched in the sand to study the TIE fighter. The wreckage had already been stripped clean by a swarm of Jawas. This was beginning to seem like just another dead end.

The cut in the hull was intriguing, though; it was oddly smooth—as if lasered open. A hurried tug removed thick leather gloves and let more sensitive fingertips trace along the edge. The hull had been melted from the inside out.

The figure sat back in the sand and let out a relieved laugh. It took another hour to tear a scrap of the melted cut from the hull. Absentmindedly flipping the piece between each finger, the figure looked up suddenly at the sound of the trader caravan approaching. 

The figure stashed everything in a satchel, stood to face the party, and removed her helmet. Underneath was a woman with a scar along her cheek and dark hair interrupted by a few strands of grey.

She clipped the helmet onto her belt, keeping it separate from the other, older treasures in her satchel.

It was an odd helmet, pilfered from some abandoned army, and did not match the slightly tarnished beskar that made up the rest of her armor. On its face, two dots for eyes and a line for a mouth had been crudely drawn to give an amused expression.

She swiftly swung her cloak over her shoulders to cover the more militant beskar, waving down the caravan as she jogged back towards them for a ride.

\-----------------

Neera left the group with a vague promise to share a meal and more stories. Her smile faded as she turned and concentrated on the battle-scarred alleyways of Nevarro.

It took her a frustratingly long time to find the enclave. It was only when she picked up the beating rhythm of a smith that she honed in on one alley. As she crept down the damp stairwell, she found herself leaning forward during the breaks in sound, only to flinch back with every clang of the hammer. She pressed on through the reverberating push and pull and yet still found herself hesitating when she reached the threshold.

When she finally walked in, the Armorer did not look up. 

“I have a trade to offer you,” Neera announced.

The Armorer continued to focus on her work. “You have much to trade,” she replied patiently.

“Today, only this.” Neera walked out from the threshold, lifted one foot on the Armorer’s bench, and removed the plate of beskar protecting her calf. The piece had only a tinge of rust that she had already sanded down. Others would have probably covered it with some paint, but that had never really suited her. Plus, she knew the Armorer would religiously strain out the impurities when reworking the metal for some new foundlings, even if it meant losing some beskar along the way.

The Armorer gave the offer the briefest glance. “And the rest?” she asked.

“I may need it still,” Neera replied.

“Others still in the Creed would benefit more,” the Armorer tried once again. “Think of the foundlings.”

Neera gave only a weak smile in response.

The Armorer relented, reached into a drawer, and handed Neera a handful of credits. 

Neera glanced at them, rolling the credits in her hand. “This is too much,” she protested.

“It is what I have given you,” was all the Armorer said. She gestured to the helmet clipped to Neera’s belt. “Your new helm is of poor quality.”

Neera glanced down at her latest companion and shrugged. “I couldn’t improve on it without crossing a line.”

“Come back at dusk, and I will have something more suitable for you. It will not be beskar, but it will be sufficient.” The Armorer paused, looking at the rounded shape filling up the satchel still clung to Neera’s back. “You have no need for that one anymore,” she pressed.

“It’s mine,” Neera remained firm.

“There is no way back, Neera.” The Armorer’s words landed with a motherly finality.

Neera looked at her feet and smiled. “No... but maybe a way to start again,” she said softly, then tossed the metal scrap from the TIE fighter to the Armorer. With a sigh, the Armorer picked up the piece to study it, then peered closer at the smooth cut. She looked back up at Neera. 

“I found it in the desert, from the wreckage where—I hear—someone tried to take down Moff Gideon.” This time she didn’t shy away from watching the Armorer’s reaction. “Gideon’s alive, and he has the darksaber.”

The Armorer studied Neera for a moment, looked back at the piece, then turned back to her work. “While you wait for your helmet, seek out the leader of the bounty hunters, Greef Karga.”

Neera juggled two or three credits as she turned to go. “Just needed to pick up my payment.”


	3. Chapter 2

Greef Karga put on a befuddled expression. The militant-looking woman behind him simply looked on from her place leaning against the bar. 

“While we welcome your business, I’m afraid Moff Gideon is already dead,” Greef explained in a confused, apologetic tone. 

Neera was not deterred. “His body will suffice then.”

Greef and the woman looked at each other before he scoffed. “Unfortunately, we are not in the business of finding bones in the desert. You may want to try Samna’s next door, seedy place, but will require fewer credits.”

Neera ignored him and continued. “He has something he stole from my people,” she said with a stiff wording. “I believe it may still be on him.”

“...and who are your people?” the woman finally spoke up. She was staring at the armor peeking out from Neera’s cloak.

“I’m from Mandalore.” Neera held her chin up, meeting the woman’s gaze as she said it.

The woman scoffed. “You’re no Mandalorian.”

Neera gave her a curt smile. “No. I was raised as a Mandalorian, but my helmet was removed. Do you know what that means?” She studied the woman who seemed to shift uncomfortably.

Neera cocked her head. “No, you _feel_ what that means, don’t you?” The woman glared back at her, looking suddenly protective.

Neera paused, considering. “Look,” she relented, “the item is my way back to my clan. I believe Gideon last had it, and I heard about what happened here a few months back. I went out to the TIE fighter, and something had cut its way out from inside the cockpit. Couldn’t have been done later by some common scavengers.” 

The man and woman tried too hard to not show a reaction. 

Greef broke the momentary pause. “Well, it’s your coin. We will see what we can find, but I make no promises…and no refunds.”

\-------------

The woman had not been easy to follow. 

It had only taken a few days for the woman to book travel off Nevarro. The smuggler Neera hired knew enough about Cara Dune to try and anticipate her moves. Still, it was multiple diversions and a few lucky guesses on Neera’s part before they managed to track her to this gun runners’ planet feigning as a trading post. 

Neera kept a safe distance as Cara hired a landspeeder for the market town. The woman was cautious. Despite Neera hiding her appearance behind cloak and helmet, the woman obviously knew she was being followed. As Neera pretended to haggle with a vendor, she looked up just in time to see the woman quickly side-step into yet another alleyway. 

Neera stared at the alleyway and drummed her fingers on the vendor’s table. It had already been three hours, and Cara Dune was not going to lead her anywhere anytime soon. It was windy and cold, and Neera would much prefer to be inside with a drink and a warm meal. 

She looked around. Something in her gut had been pulling her east, but the two cantinas she would choose to hide out in were right in town. Neera took a guess and headed over to the one with the least questionable food. 

She walked in side the dimly-lit cantina. There, at a table strategically positioned in view of both entrances, sat a man encased in Mandalorian armor. His beskar was intriguingly shiny and new, and his posture far too straight for a place like this. He looked both intimidating and awkward sitting there all alone, not as much as a drink in front of him when everyone else was drunkenly laughing or fighting. 

Neera paused at the entrance. There was a dark booth in the corner where she could easily stay unseen and continue following them both. She shifted on her feet as she glanced again at the man in armor sitting alone at the table. 

Neera removed her poor excuse for a helmet, tucked back a few strands of hair, and found herself walking directly towards him. The Mandalorian slowly turned his head to watch her approach. She instinctively raised her hands to show they were empty as she approached his table. 

“I might as well come over while you wait for Cara. She’s here to tell you that Moff Gideon is not dead.”

The Mandalorian looked at her with that flat armored expression, then his gaze slipped past her to the cantina entrance. Cara Dune had just walked in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Neera and let out a frustrated curse. 

The Mandalorian returned his gaze to Neera, leaned back, and used a foot to push out an extra chair.


	4. Chapter 3

"Why are you following us?" the man in Mandalorian armor asked as she sat down. His voice was softer than she had expected. She guessed he was about her age. 

She took a moment to study him, then gave a small shrug. "I'm looking for Gideon, Gideon's looking for you. You're easier to find," she said simply.

The man's head turned towards Cara Dune, and she immediately put her hands up. "Hey, I was careful. It wasn't me she followed if she got here first."

"I had a few lucky guesses," Neera assured them both, "...and I also paid off one of Greef's smugglers to follow you."

"Porro, that son of a…," Cara started.

"Actually, it was Davek. He really wants to prove he can best you," Neera corrected. Cara sat back, looking distracted by that thought.

The Mandalorian turned back to Neera. "What do you want from Gideon?"

Neera looked over his suit of new armor. Selling one piece was enough to keep her afloat for a year. Even with unlimited funds, there wasn't enough metal around to purchase something like that. He could be another pretender, but she recognized the Armorer's work. There was no way she would arm someone outside the Creed.

Her eyes lingered on the unfamiliar signet on his shoulder before turning back to them both. "He has a weapon," she said, adding gravity to her tone.

The two glanced at each other; Cara straightened up.

Neera let the moment hang for an extra second to make sure her words would sink in. "I believe he has the darksaber."

There was a pause, and Cara finally spoke up. "Should I know what that is?"

The Mandalorian tapped his fingers on the table. "It's an old sword from Mandalorian history," he explained.

Cara looked confused. "What...one sword?"

Neera looked back and forth at them both, still searching for some type of recognition or response. "Not just a sword; it's a sword with a unique energy, made of light..."

Cara interrupted. "I thought you called it dark."

"It's not….it's a dark light, the absence of light."

Cara grumbled something to herself about magic swords.

Neera continued, getting frustrated. "It was passed down in my clan for centuries; whoever wielded it led the Mandalorians."

Cara gave an incredulous lift of the eyebrows as she raised her jug of ale for a drink.

"Which clan," the Mandalorian asked. 

She tried again to see his signet, then gave up studying him and sighed. "Vizsla. I was born as Neera Vizsla," she said simply.

His questions started to close in. "And why was your helmet removed?"

She searched the semblance of features on his metal mask, considering, then gave a small shrug. "I took it off," she admitted. "I was young. I had an argument with my father and wanted him to see me as his daughter. It backfired."

She found herself inching forward and continuing. "You know what it's like, seeing siblings disappear one by one behind the helmet. You realize you've never seen your parents' actual faces. You get curious. It's a hard temptation to give up." She had her hands open in front of her and was looking at him expectantly.

He didn't move but replied with a matter-of-fact tone. "The helmet is the only true face," he said simply.

She stared at him for a moment then narrowed her eyes at his rote response. "What...did you never stumble upon your father's stash of helmet removal porn?" she shot back.

Cara looked down and bit back a grin, then cleared her throat and excused herself as the Mandalorian gave her a look. "I'm going to get more drinks. I suddenly have _a lot_ more questions."

Neera eyed him again as they sat alone at the table. "Or were you a foundling?" she started to prod. He turned ever so slightly back to her. "Was the helmet the only face you've ever known for your new family?" She leaned in closer. "I always wondered if we took in foundlings because they were less likely to question tradition after already losing one family."

The helmeted features remained impassive as Cara came back to the table. Neera thanked her when she placed one of the drinks in front of her.

"Your family lived together? All as Mandalorians?" Cara asked.

The man turned and gave Cara a look again, but she ignored him and turned to Neera instead.

Neera was used to the questions and smiled. "Together but separate. Most had separate quarters once we donned the helmet. Wealthier families had separate houses around a courtyard where we would come together for training. My brothers and I used to shout challenges and taunts at each other from our houses before our daily sparring," she explained, enjoying the excuse for nostalgia.

"But your parents raised you? As Mandalorians?" Cara pressed on, seeming to be driving at something.

"Yes…," Neera replied, and she saw Cara give the Mandalorian an emphatic look that Neera couldn't decipher. She studied them both and tried to guess what Cara was getting at. "They used to love to fight each other. I know the life can seem cold and distant from the outside, but they had their own kind of romance." She took a drink and winked conspiratorially at Cara, "Plus, Mandalorian men have a reputation for being good with their hands."

The Mandalorian impatiently checked the time and spoke just to Cara. "I need to be getting back, especially if you want time to come say hello." There was finally the slightest break of annoyance in his voice.

Neera latched onto the hint of a reaction, pretending to ignore him. "...Though I suppose once you leave," she continued to Cara, "you realize it's hard to compare to the warmth of a kiss—or any human interaction not hiding behind the armor."

Cara shook her head. "So why go back?"

Neera took another drink and paused for a bit, before giving a resigned shrug. "It's my family, and they've been nearly wiped out. How far would you go to get your family back?"

Cara turned more solemn, staring at her drink as she rolled it in her hands before looking sideways at the Mandalorian.

There was silence for a moment. His voice had less of an edge when he spoke again. "What is it that you want? You could have just kept following from a distance."

Neera shrugged again. "This seemed more interesting...and maybe it wouldn't hurt to know there's someone else around who also wants Gideon dead."

"Maybe." He tapped his fingers on the table again. "Luckily, I know someone who may be able to vouch for your story. If not, I'll be taking that armor with me. I'm sure he could keep you contained until we're long gone after that."

Neera gave him a questioning look.

Instead of elaborating, he tossed a set of restraints across the table. She looked down at them and cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not armed."

He showed no response.

Sighing, she leaned forward with an impish smile and held out her wrists.

Outside, Neera stood and waited by the landspeeder as the man and Cara conferred out of earshot. Cara nodded about something and then headed off towards the east side of town. As the man walked towards Neera and the landspeeder, Cara suddenly turned back, remembering something.

"Hey Mando, what about food?"

He turned. "Bone broth is fine," he called back.

He then walked up to Neera at the landspeeder.

"Mando, huh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Get in." He ignored the attempted ribbing while holding the door for her.


	5. Chapter 4

They rode in silence, Neera giving him the comfort zone of the stoic front for most of the trip. She rested her head against the wall of the enclosed landspeeder and watched the landscape pass by. The afternoon winds were picking up across the blue-green grasslands, causing clouds of pale yellow seed pods to lift into the air.

The Mandalorian clicked on something on the dash, and she angled her head over to look at him.

"Were you originally from the Garos system?" she asked suddenly.

His hand froze over the next button on the dash, before recovering and continuing with the controls. "Why?" he eventually asked.

She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Most foundlings were either from Garos or Diorda, and you don't have the Diordan accent," she continued, half talking to herself. "I remember others talking about their childhoods there. Wonder which part you were from. Was it the capital at Ariana, the famous Tahika cliffs, or maybe the seaside town of—"

"—I don't know," he cut her off. The frustration in his voice made her clam up. He shifted his grip on the wheel, then added in a calmer tone, "...it was a small village, arid."

She furrowed her brow. "Arid?" she asked, confused. "What...Sundari?"

"I wasn't from the capital," he said with disdain.

"Not Sundari the city," she shot back. "The planet."

No response.

"What then...Asedaa?" She paused, thinking to herself. Suddenly she lifted her head and stared at him. "You were taken in by Death Watch," she said in realization.

The silence hung there awkwardly when she didn't say anything else for a while.

She cleared her throat and went back to the conversational tone. "Surprised I didn't know you. What's your na—" she stopped herself when he gave her a look. She tried a new tack. "Who took you in? Maybe I knew them."

He stayed unnaturally still at his seat at the wheel. "Sek Ven," he said after a long hesitation.

"Ven?" Neera repeated, brow furrowed. She mouthed the name silently as if trying to remember something. "What was it again...if you haven't factored….no, thought about the wind, you've already missed?"

He shifted his hands on the wheel again. "If you haven't factored in the wind, you've already missed," he corrected her.

"That was it," she said with a satisfied smile.

"You knew him," he said simply.

She gave another noncommittal shrug. "Not really. He trained some of the older kids, but he left before I was old enough." She paused again, cocking her head at him. "Maybe that was around the time he took you in."

She was silent for a while and glanced at him before continuing. "Did he—" she started, then paused, reconsidering, "Do you know why he left?"

"It was never important," he replied.

She nodded her head and didn't ask more about it.

"Whatever happened to him?"

He clicked another button on the dash. "He died. During the Siege."

Neera frowned. "I'm sorry. He had a good reputation. Not much of a sense of humor, and strict, but well-respected."

"...Thank you."

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees as she rolled her new bastardized helmet between her restrained hands. "That must have been hard. Bad enough to lose one family, can't imagine losing a second right after."

Silence.

She rolled her helmet in her hands again.

"Who is it?" she asked in a quiet voice. She lifted her face to look up at him. "Who's still alive that you're taking me to see? I never did learn who survived after all this time."

His hand twitched on the steering wheel again.

"...Paz Vizsla," he finally relented.

"Paz..." she breathed out the name with a rush of relief. The smile faded, and she instead stared blankly in front of her. Mando watched as she turned back to the window and visibly swallowed while straightening the strap of her satchel.

"That frightens you," he noted.

She choked out an uncomfortable laugh and peered sideways at him. "Was it so obvious?" she asked. "Never did learn how to guard my expressions after growing up under the helmet," she admitted, reaching up to itch the scar on her cheek. 

She caught him still watching her, and the wolfish smile returned. "Tell me," she asked, "do you find you make more, or fewer, facial expressions after all this time?"

He stared at her, then rolled back to his original position focused on the navigation. 

"I'm guessing right now you have a stern expression, jaw set in slight annoyance…perhaps a roll of the eyes?"

He clicked the navigation and did not respond.

"Now, trying not to show the hint of a sigh or shake of the head just so you don't give me the satisfaction," she continued to pry at him.

She gave a dry laugh and turned back to the window when he showed absolutely no response.


	6. Chapter 5

"No helmet," he stopped her mid-motion.

She shot him a look. "Fine," she conceded as she lowered the replacement helmet back down. He stepped out and waited beside the door for her to follow.

They had pulled up to a huddle of buildings in the middle of an otherwise empty plain. At first glance, they appeared to be nothing but old huts, but any closer inspection revealed recent maintenance.

"Keep two paces in front of me, towards the largest building," he commanded.

She walked forward. The wind was whipping and tossed some strands of hair from her braid to lash at her bare face. They stuck to her lips, and she had to awkwardly brush them back with the edge of her bound wrists.

Their walk took them through a narrow passageway, and she stopped when they reached a thick steel door. It had recently been coated over with a thick protective layer of paint. A caustic metallic clanging emanated through it, reverberating to her place outside. She tensed when she felt a hand on her arm, but it was just this man, Mando nudging her aside so he could lean past and pound on the door.

The clanging stopped, followed by an expectant silence. 

"It's me again. May I come in?" Mando answered into the door, Neera noting how his voice went from gruff to something more deferential. It came out a bit more formal and stiff than familiar and relaxed—and that made her a bit sad for them all. 

Neera strained to listen to the muffled ascent on the other side, searching for any hint of familiarity. The door opened, and Mando hesitated, turning back to her. "Wait here," he commanded before walking inside.

The room was filled floor to ceiling with rows of weapons. At a workbench in one corner stood a hulk of a man in Mandalorian armor. Paz Vizsla did not turn around as Mando walked in. "Back so soon for more? Was that not enough of an arsenal for you?" Paz japed.

"I have someone I want you to check on for me," Mando responded tentatively. He turned back to Neera but saw her looking tense, staring fixedly at Paz Vizsla's broad back. He hesitated briefly but went ahead to gesture her inside.

She shot him a look with a tightening of her jaw, then stepped into the room and straightened to stand taller.

"Hello, little brother," she said with a resigned smile.

Paz Vizsla turned and froze, staring at her. Mando watched them both warily for what seemed like a long pause. Finally, Paz turned to Mando, raising the hammer in his hand to point at him accusingly. "What is this?" he growled.

Watchfully, Mando started to explain. "She says Gideon is still alive after Nevarro."

Paz lowered the hammer and gave a huff. "That would explain the rumors of stormtroopers infesting this planet."

"How many?" Mando asked.

"Five or six, seen in the last day or so," Paz replied impatiently. "What does Gideon have to do with her?" he demanded, speaking only to Mando.

Mando eyed Neera as she drifted further from the door. "She says he has the darksaber," he said. 

Paz looked over at Neera as she walked along the rows of weapons, exploring Paz's collection. He covered some reaction with a scoff. "That old obsession? Thought you would have grown out of that by now."

Neera ignored the statement and ran a finger over a set of tools. With a crooked smile, she responded, "You're all grown up. I see you finally caught up with your oversized feet." She paused at a half-repaired jetpack strewn across the workbench. "I still remember when you tried to make your own jetpack out of tin cans. Our older brothers convinced you it would only work if you jumped off of the highest cliff. I had to talk you down before you broke your neck."

Paz watched her warily. "My brothers made me stronger," he countered, brushing off the attempt at familiarity.

She rolled her eyes and gave a skeptical laugh. "As long as I was there to keep you alive. Always having to get you out of trouble."

Something about that statement set him off, and he tossed down the hammer into a pile of tools with a clang. She turned to watch his reaction as he rounded on her, Mando instinctively shifted his hand closer to his blaster.

Paz stepped up to loom over her. "You chose to leave and flaunt our ways. Do you really think you'll be the one to bind us?"

Neera looked taken aback, then leaned forward. "Chose to leave?!" she shot back. "They were not my rules. You think I wanted to go? What kind of stupid—"

Paz cut her off with a raise of his hands, stretching out his fingers then clenching them in a vain attempt at patience. "Have you thought about what happens when you finally find this thing?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Neera…" he paused, emphasizing his words carefully. "Give. It. Up."

Neera shook her head, persisting as she stepped closer to him. "Why are you—" she started. 

He cut her off coldly. "Do you remember what our father said would happen if you ever showed your face again?"

Neera froze.

"Paz…" she implored quietly.

The slash came before Mando could see the glint of steel in Paz's hand.

"HEY!" Mando yelled as he lunged to push Paz back. Neera remained where she stood, unflinching, but a thin line of red grew on her cheek.

Mando looked at it, then stared back at Paz. "What are you doing?" he shouted. "She's unarmed and restrained."

Paz scoffed. "As if that matters with her," he grumbled as he turned back away.

Mando looked back and forth at them both, then turned, grabbed her arm, and pushed her to go.

Paz called back to him. "If Gideon has the darksaber, he's no friend of hers, if that's what you're worried about." He turned and looked them both up and down. "You can trust that she's after the darksaber, but not beyond that. She should be considered an enemy of Mandalorians."

Neera turned in Mando's grip and looked back at Paz one last time. She then turned with a scoff and went to leave.

Mando turned to Paz, annoyed. "Anything else?"

"You go find your darksaber," Paz called to Neera. She paused at the threshold, head slightly turned to listen. "... and when you come back, you will face me in single combat," he finished with a cynical certainty.

Neera blinked, then turned back to walk out.

As Mando went to follow her out, Paz spoke to him one last time. "Don't bring someone from outside of our kind here again."

Mando found his hand tightening in his glove, and then he turned to follow her out.

Neera was waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall of the passageway. She looked up at him as he walked out. 

He stood there for a second, unsure what to do with her. She lifted her restrained hands to wipe her cheek with a sleeve, glanced down at the smear of blood, sighed, and stood up to walk back to the landspeeder. 

They walked out in silence. After a few paces, Mando spoke up. "That is not the way," he offered.

She turned and studied him, looking his blemish-free beskar up and down. "...Yes, it is," she quietly reminded him before turning to keep walking.

Back in the landspeeder, Mando didn't stop her when she slipped her helmet back on. She sat with her head leaning against the hull of the ship and stayed uncharacteristically quiet for the ride back.


	7. Chapter 6

"Wait." 

He put up a hand as he paused just before the market street. Neera came to a stop just behind him. He was walking her back to the cantina for lack of a better idea of what to do with her. The streets had emptied as the high winds rattled at the buttoned-up market tents, their stakes straining to keep a hold on the ground. 

Mando edged forward in the narrow space between two tents. Even with the high winds, the town had become disconcertingly quiet. He turned to Neera, expecting her to ask about the hold-up, but her helmeted face was already looking past him. He turned to follow her gaze and then saw it: the flash of white between the rows of tent walls.

He squinted, ignoring the billowing of the tent wall flapping against his side. There were at least three figures in the classic white of stormtroopers, walking with their usual haphazard stroll.

When he turned back to tell Neera to stay close, she was gone. He paused, searching around the edges of the tent, then shrugged, telling himself it was probably for the best. Just beyond, there were two more troopers to his left, but he could still make his way to the ship unseen. He found himself glancing back one last time, then shook his head and slipped between the next set of tents.

He leaned out to watch the first squad walk by while he reached down to draw his blaster. His hand froze when it instead felt an odd round shape. 

He looked down to see the pair of restraints sitting in his holster where his blaster should have been. He blinked at the sight, then sighed, cursing Neera before making his move towards the next alley beyond the rows of tents.

He turned the corner and ended up face-to-face with a lone stormtrooper, his arms filled with some pilfered pottery. The stormtrooper locked eyes with him and then let the pottery to shatter on the ground as he reached for his blaster. 

Mando was faster. He drew his rifle from his back, aimed it square at the hapless soldier, and fired. The rifle responded with nothing but a pathetic fizzle.

They both stared at the rifle for a beat before the stormtrooper scrambled to recollect himself. Mando had enough time to shoot out a cable and lasso the soldier's gun hand just as the stormtrooper fired. The cable jerked the blaster to a glancing blow, but the force was still enough to send him hurtling backward—the lassoed stormtrooper coming tumbling after him.

He managed to roll with the fall, coming up with the rifle to strike the blaster out of the stormtrooper's hand. The blaster landed a few feet away while he pummeled the stormtrooper with the butt of his rifle. Seeing him finally go limp, Mando grabbed the stormtrooper by the legs and dragged him inside the nearest tent and out of sight of the rest of the squadron.

Standing up, he took a moment to give his rifle a cursory glance. A piece of solder had been jammed into the firing pin; it would have immediately melted down when he tried to fire it. Neera must have grabbed the solder from Paz's workbench. He cursed her again, not appreciating being bait on her way to Gideon.

He walked out and glanced around for the stormtrooper's strewn blaster. It lay just beyond the tent at the edge of the thoroughfare. Just as he started walking towards it, another stormtrooper appeared and bent over to pick it up. Mando shot a glance down the street to see the other stormtroopers' backs still turned.

"Hey, look what I found—" the stormtrooper called out just as Mando tackled him.

They rolled into a tent, knocking out a stake as they fumbled inwards.

Mando threw a chokehold around the stormtrooper, straining to keep him quiet from the rest of the squadron. There was a flash of movement to their side, and he realized one edge of the tent was now flapping loose, intermittently revealing the boots of the other stormtroopers just beyond.

Mando squirmed to drag them both deeper into the cover of the tent. The stormtrooper's legs were beginning to flail as he searched for air; one of the stormtrooper's boots gave a particularly violent kick against one of the remaining stakes. It held for a moment, then began to struggle in its control of the tent wall against the gusts of wind. There was a wiggle, then a loosening, and it started inching upwards as it lost its grip on the ground. 

Mando and the stormtrooper froze to stare at the teetering stake, both realizing it was the last thing holding down the tent wall that hid them from the stormtroopers just beyond. The stormtrooper somehow found a final bit of strength and started kicking wildly at the stake. Mando struggled to pin down the man's leg with his own while trying to finish off the chokehold before the stake was inevitably pulled loose. The stormtrooper kept managing to pull a leg free, and Mando had to swing around his own leg to slam it back down. The stake continued to wiggle looser as the wind pulled at it. The stormtrooper resorted to desperately stretching the toe of his pinned leg to give the last little push. Mando stretched with him. Just as the stormtrooper managed to give it that final nudge, Mando latched a toe on the other side, squeezing the now loose stake between their two feet.

The stormtrooper kept trying to wiggle his foot away to let it fly, but his strength was failing. The stormtrooper finally went limp, and Mando strained to keep the stake firmly sandwiched against the other man's boot. As carefully as possible, he rolled his foot on top of the stake and delicately nudged it back into the ground. He took a deep breath as he watched the stormtroopers' boots outside walk the other way.

Loosening his grip on the stormtrooper's neck, he rolled over to finally reach the blaster lying in the sand next to them.

Just as he reached for the weapon, the tent was rocked with a fresh gust of wind. Mando whipped his head around just in time to see the tent stake violently yanked from the ground. The tent's wall flew outward, sending the attached stake hurdling into the thoroughfare and knocking one of the stormtroopers square in the back.

Mando lifted his head up to see the heavily armed stormtroopers each turn to see him lying on the ground with the strangled stormtrooper still in his grasp.

With a sigh of resignation, he let his head fall back to the ground and put his hands up in temporary defeat.


	8. Chapter 7

“I kind of want his helmet.”

Mando repressed a groan. They had restrained him to a chair in front of their ship at a crowded loading bay; the half-constructed buildings surrounding them clattered loudly in the wind. After dragging him here, they had been stupid enough to put him in his own restraints that Neera had so graciously returned to him. He counted two next to him, one readying the ship behind him, and the four more scouring the town for any signs of his ship.

“No,” the second stormtrooper protested. “Gideon wants him alive.”

The first stormtrooper gave the other one a look. “They don’t die if you take off their helmets.” He stopped and turned towards the other one. “Do you think they die if you take off their helmets?”

The second stormtrooper stammered. “I don’t know, I just know they can’t take them off.”

Mando let them argue as he folded his fingers back to reach the pin tucked into his wrist. It was always difficult to grasp through the thick leather gloves, but he kept his hand steady as he twisted his wrist around to reach the clasp.

“They don’t die, it’s just a weird tradition thing,” the first stormtrooper argued, though there was a hint of doubt creeping into his voice. “Look. I’ll show you,” he said as his hands reached for the helmet.

Mando kept his focus on hurrying the pin in the clasp.

“If you’re wrong, this is on you. I’m not going to be the one to face Gideon’s wrath.”

The stormtrooper dropped his hands and let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you know how much that thing is worth? Tell you what, I’ll let you have the rest of his armor if I get to keep the helmet.”

The pin wiggled in the clasp.

“All of it? Including the rifle?” the other stormtrooper countered.

The first one hesitated “...Fine. The rifle too.”

The second one paused, then nodded. “Deal, and if it does kill him, we’ll just say it was Tobi’s fault.” They both looked back at the ship behind them, where a third stormtrooper fiddled with something and then nodded to each other.

“When did Gideon say he would get here?” the second asked as the first again reached for the helmet.

Mando strained impatiently to hear that final click of the clasp.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not contacting him until we find this guy’s ship,” he balked as he reached his hands around the bottom of the helmet and began to tug upwards.

“Stop.” The voice came from in front of them. Mando froze when he heard it, as did the stormtroopers with hands on his helmet. Neera’s voice was becoming both a blessing and a curse, and he cursed her again when he saw his blaster in her hand as she stood at the edge of the loading dock. 

A tumbleweed of construction trash bounced by her as she tried to shout over the wind. “If he doesn’t get around to killing you before you remove his helmet, then I will,” she said with a sigh.

The stormtroopers looked at each other and dropped their hands to the blasters at their sides. “Back off,” one of them said with an attempt at cockiness. “There’s one of you, and we have a third right behind us.”

“Would you hurry up?” she said impatiently. ”That took me all of 5 seconds.”

It took him a minute to realize she was talking to him. He gave a last twist of his arm, finally clicking one hand free, the other swinging around with the still attached chair to slam into the first stormtrooper. He grabbed the trooper’s blaster arm with his free hand, and the two went down as he rolled the stormtrooper on top of him as cover from the other. In the back of his mind, he heard the sound of the blaster fire and knew Neera was taking care of the second trooper. With a forceful twist of the stormtrooper’s arm, the blaster came loose, and he finally had the satisfaction of a trigger at his fingertips. He shoved the blaster into the gap between the trooper’s armor and fired.

He rolled up and made quick work of the second restraint before turning to check his surroundings. A loose piece of roofing material blew past him as he turned to check on the second stormtrooper. Before he could see anything, he heard Neera shout an alarmed “Down!” just as a second piece of sheet metal flew into him.

It knocked him to the ground just in time for him to look up and see some sort of projectile flying past where he had just been standing. There was a blast behind him. He immediately turned towards its source to see the third stormtrooper (presumably Tobi) readying a rocket launcher for a second shot. Neera was keeping him under fire, presumably trying to draw him away, but a riot shield kept him shielded from her blaster. She was edging backward, drawing him farther outside the safety of the ship just as another tumble of roofing hurtled towards the man. Mando watched as he dodged most of the scrap metal but then lost control of the riot shield as the wind caught it. It went flying with the rest of the debris, and Neera landed a shot right in the gap of armor at his neck. He staggered for a moment, then dropped the launcher and fell to the ground.

“Hey!” Neera tossed Mando’s blaster back to him as she went to gather the first two fallen stormtroopers’ weapons.

He caught it and looked past her to see two other stormtroopers coming down the road. “We need to go, now.” he urged her.

“You go,” she called back, gathering the weapons. “There must be some communications from Gideon in there,” she muttered to herself as she ran past the fallen third stormtrooper and into the ship.

Mando hesitated as he looked from Neera back to the two new stormtroopers running towards them. The pulse of a blaster shot whizzed by him, and he took shelter behind a barricade to hold them off.

Inside, Neera scrambled over the comms unit for anything that could lead back to Gideon. The sound of the shoot out behind her held a place in the back of her mind as she scrolled through the log. One entry caught her attention: a message from Gideon coming from the planet of Bestine a few days ago. The shoot out grew more frantic behind her. She scrolled through the rest of the messages, shaking her head in frustration. There was nothing else there. She stashed a copy of the messages in her satchel, then hesitated as she hovered over the comms unit. With a curse, she destroyed the rest of it before turning to run back outside.

A blaster shot struck her right in her beskar breastplate. The force made her take a few staggering steps back before she could look up. Annoyed, she saw the third stormtrooper still alive and training his blaster on her. She sighed and raised her blaster to finish him off when he lowered his aim and fired.

The burst of pain hit her just as she saw the stormtrooper go down. Her leg had already buckled under her before she could think to try and stifle a cry of pain. She looked down to see she had been hit right where her pawned-off armor should have been. Sucking in a breath with a shake of her head, she cursed her forgetfulness and pulled herself back up. 

Outside, Mando finished off the two stormtroopers, then looked up and saw an entire second squadron coming down the avenue. He cursed; there were too many of them. He glanced back at the ship one last time before standing to make his exit. The sound of blaster fire from inside the ship made him stop in his tracks. He turned to see the third stormtrooper strewn dead on the ramp and Neera pulling herself up to limp out of the ship.

He glanced back at the oncoming squadron, cursed again, and then sprinted up the ramp. “Come on,” he urged her as he grabbed the belt loop at her waist and swung her arm over his shoulder.

“Gideon’s on Bestine,” she breathed out in a wince as she took the help to limp out.

“I don’t care,” he shot back as he tried to rush them out of the ship. With a twinge of annoyance, he felt Neera resisting and pulling away. But when he saw what she was reaching for, he paused and helped her lean out as he anxiously glanced back at the oncoming squadron. She came back up with the rocket launcher in her hand and leaned against him as she lined up the shot.

“You’re too high,” he pointed out as the squadron got closer.

“I am NOT,” she replied through gritted teeth as she braced for the recoil.

The projectile sailed above the oncoming stormtroopers and then squarely hit the fuel cell just behind them. Mando had just enough time to pull them both behind the cover of the hull as the blastwave whooshed past them.

Mando leaned out to see the now decimated squadron strewn across the loading dock. He looked down in surprise to find Neera tucking the second blaster in his waist belt. He gave her a look. 

“I prefer a free hand for this,” she explained as she held up the rocket launcher. He shook his head and shifted his weight under her arm to finally get the hell out of there, Neera leaning on the rocket launcher as an extra crutch for the time being.

They came out into an avenue, and he pulled them east. Neera looked back, “The cantina’s the other way,” she quipped.

“Shut up,” he snapped as he threw his body against a door in a nearby alley. It led them down a stairway to an underground canal system, eventually spilling out to a narrow slot canyon where a battle weary-looking ship sat waiting.

The ramp lowered as they approached, and Cara Dune stepped out to meet them. She raised one eyebrow as they limped towards her.

“Looks like that went well,” Cara said dryly.

“So great!” Neera shot back sarcastically.

Mando ignored them both and spoke to Cara as they hobbled up the ramp. “Can you go lock him in the cockpit?” he asked, “...and grab the bacta spray,” he added as she nodded and disappeared back into the ship ahead of them.

They reached the interior, where he laid Neera on the floor against the hull. Grabbing a MedPAC off the wall, he sat back on his heels to look at her leg.

“That was stupid,” he said simply.

Neera gave a dry laugh, letting the back of her helmet fall against the wall. “Which part?” she asked sardonically. “The sabotaging you, or the not following through with it?”

“Both.” He undid the buckles on her boot and pulled it off to study the injury underneath.

“Well, removing your helmet would have been rude of them,” she grumbled as she watched him gingerly angle her leg from side to side to eye her half-melted pant leg.

“Don’t appreciate being bait,” he continued as he gave a tentative tug at the fabric.

“But you put up such an entertaining fighhH-ayt-” her sentence finished in a cry of pain as he ripped the melted fabric from her leg. Her fingers dug into the grating on the floor, and she had to suck in a few breaths to steady herself. He was rummaging through the MedPAC and came back with a roll of gauze to quickly cover the raw wound. Finished, he set her leg down, then sat back on his heels.

He paused there for a moment to give her a look up and down.

“Take off your helmet,” he commanded softly.

The pain momentarily fell to the background as she raised her head to look back at him. She mulled her response for a few breaths before tilting her chin up and removing the fake helmet. Lines of salt had streaked through the blood on her cheek, smearing it across the tension in her jaw. The familiar wolfish smile crept in and broke the twist of pain in her mouth.

“You have a nice voice,” she goaded him as he tried to look at the extent of the cut on her cheek.

“Thank you,” he politely ignored her, turning to douse another piece of gauze with alcohol. He turned back to hand her the bandage.

The smile faltered as he remained impassive with an outstretched hand. She finally took the gauze and pressed it to her cheek as she leaned against the wall, blinking back some emotion.

He was still studying her when she took the gauze off to inspect how much blood had soaked through. A strand of hair had stuck to the salt and blood accumulated on her cheek. He seemed to be hesitating to say something.

“How deep is the cut?” was all that came out.

“It’s fine,” she said in a dismissive tone. “It will match the other cheek nicely,” she added with a sardonic smirk, finally brushing back the strand herself.

He sat there silently again until the pause was interrupted by Cara coming back down.

She squinted at the blood on Neera’s face before turning to Mando, “Here,” she said as she handed him the bacta spray.

Neera grimaced as he uncovered the gauze and sprayed her leg. She turned to the side, looking for some distraction, and was surprised to find two big green ears poking out from behind a pile of boxes.

She sat up and squinted at the sight. “What... is that?” she asked curiously.

Mando followed her gaze, then shot a look back to Cara.

“Hey, I locked it,” she said defensively.

Mando sighed and grumbled something to himself. Neera couldn’t stop looking at the big black eyes in the green face, shyly staring back at her. She ignored Mando as he tried impatiently to turn her cheek towards him for the bacta spray. He finally took a hand to her chin to turn her face the other way so he could finish the application.

“That,” he offered reluctantly, “is my foundling.”

Neera squinted back at the little guy shyly staring at her. The little green bundle gingerly waddled out and looked over to Mando, holding up a tiny outstretched hand as if offering something.

“No,” Mando said in reply. “Not now, she’ll be fine.”

Neera looked back and forth at them both.

Mando stood up, picking up the little green child on the way, “I can take you as far as Eriadu. You can get another ship from there.”

Neera managed to pull her eyes away from the child. “You’re going the opposite direction of Gideon,” she pointed out.

He nodded, a bit of teasing in his own voice now. “I’ll let you have the first crack at him while we stay safely on the other side of the galaxy.”

She gave a dry laugh, then looked him over. "You still planning on attempting to take my armor?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Just don't let me catch you putting the helmet back on, and we're good."

He looked over at Cara. She added, “I’ll stay back and make sure none of the stormtroopers follow.”

Mando and Cara walked down the ship ramp together, discussing something out of Neera’s earshot. There appeared to be more like battle buddies; Neera realized she had been wrong about that too. The entire time, the little green foundling kept a watchful eye on her from his place in Mando’s arms. 

Cara said something with a raise of the eyebrows and a grin, and Mando responded by turning around to glance at Neera. As he turned back, the little child struggled in his arms, wiggling free to scramble down to the ground where he latched onto Mando’s leg and continued to peek over at Neera. Neera watched as Cara and Mando said their goodbyes, grasping each other’s forearms with an air of two trusted friends. Cara bent down to give the child a quick tug on the ear and then walked off towards the town.

Alone, Mando looked down at the child. The child looked back up at him, pointedly staying clutched to his leg. Mando sighed and let him stay there, awkwardly staggering back to the ship while the kid enjoyed the ride. Once inside, he closed the ramp and bent to pick up the child. He turned to see Neera watching him with raised eyebrows.

“There’s water in the jug,” was all he said before taking the child and climbing the ladder to the cockpit. 

Alone, Neera gave the nearest cargo box a frustrated kick, then leaned back against the wall with a tired laugh as she found herself in this strange little family's ship. 


	9. Chapter 8

Neera was tearing off a strip of tape with her teeth when he came back down with the kid in one arm. She had made herself a seat on a box by the wall, leaning over her rolled-up pant leg as she attempted to create a more comfortable bandage. Grimacing slightly, she tested its tightness with a wiggle of her toes and a flex of her barefoot.

She glanced up to find him awkwardly hesitating by the table as she went for a second piece of tape.

"You want me to give you some privacy so you can eat?" she offered.

He turned from the sight of her half-finished bandage. "It's fine for now," he ceded, pulling a chair piled with a stack of boxes up to the table. Neera stole a look out of the corner of her eye as he set the little green muffin onto the hoisted seat, then turned to ladle some broth into a cup. The little guy immediately wiggled around in his seat to peer at Neera over the back of his chair.

Mando set the cup of bone broth in front of the child. The kid turned around to clutch the cup in both hands and proceeded to climb down from the chair. He toddled over to Neera, half of the soup sloshing out as he went, and proudly offered it to her.

She raised an eyebrow and took the cup. "Cute," she admitted as Mando sighed and turned back to pour another one. He dropped his rifle on the table as the little guy scrambled back up to his seat. Mando made the kid turn around and plopped a dead lizard on his plate before going back to inspecting his rifle.

The kid looked at the lizard, then looked at Mando, and quickly grabbed it to scurry back down his chair and offer the lizard to Neera as well. This time she begrudgingly took the limp food by a toe. "...Thanks," she said reluctantly.

Mando held out a hand while the kid had his back turned. She gratefully tossed him the lizard while the kid wasn't watching.

Scrambling back up to his chair, the kid hesitated for a moment, then tried to go for a silver ball. Mando clapped a hand on it to stop him.

"Eat first," he insisted patiently.

The child looked up at him, seeming to consider how much he could get away with, then turned to gobble up the lizard. One last leg was hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he grabbed his cup of bone broth and turned around in his chair to continue staring at Neera.

She bit back a smile as she sipped her own cup and shifted her attention to Mando as he studied his rifle.

"I already fixed it," she pointed out.

He looked closer at the rifle, then resignedly set it down. "Anything else I should know about?"

She shrugged. "I didn't have time to disconnect your flamethrower fuel line."

The child was slurping his soup, eagerly watching the back and forth.

"Can he talk?" she asked.

"Not that I've seen, but he's still young." He didn't look up as he double-checked the fuel line.

"How old?"

"50."

She gave him a quizzical look. "No offense, but maybe being around the strong silent type all the time isn't giving him many opportunities to learn."

"That's only for people I don't trust yet," he countered, putting the rifle aside. The kid turned back around in his seat, made a point of officially setting down his finished cup, and then watched Mando expectantly. Mando pulled out the silver ball and gave it a quick twist to send it spinning across the table. The kid let out a shriek of glee and tried to grab it between his hands.

"Does he have a name?"

"Womp rat."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, 'Mando.'"

The kid finally managed to clasp the ball between his hands and once again scrambled down to bring it over to Neera. She took the prize with a playful formality, then proceeded to juggle it along with the roll of tape and the empty cup. The kid's eyes grew slightly wide, and he made a little noise as he sucked in a breath. She let the items drop and tossed the ball back to him—which he missed and went chasing after as it rolled along the floor.

Rolling down the hem of her pants, Neera shifted up onto her good leg. Barefoot, she wiggled her toes on the floor to test them, then looked around and stole a nearby stick as a crutched. 

"I'll give you some privacy," she offered again as she made some less than smooth steps up to the cockpit. She glanced behind her to see the kid following.

"No," Mando interjected, "the back room for you." The kid looked back at him with some well-practiced puppy dog eyes while also sneaking in a few backward steps towards the cockpit.

"It's okay, I can keep him entertained while you eat. I'll regale him with the tales of Mandalore the Great or my great-great Great GREAT grandfather Tarre," she said playfully as she leaned down to pick up the silver ball and give the kid a quick bop on the nose.

"Fine. I'll get him when I'm done."

Alone in the cockpit, she sat in the captain's chair and picked a few more items to juggle. He was a curious thing, and she had never seen his species before. She tried to toss him the ball again, this time giving him a softer throw to help him catch it. The ball hit his hand, then bounced off and rolled under the gap between the floor and the control panel.

"Not quite strong enough for that, huh?"

She bent down and tried to reach the ball, but it was too far for her arm to reach. Looking back towards the door, she sighed, then laid down on her stomach while stretching her hand out towards the ball. The little silver ball started moving before she even touched it, then suddenly diverted to roll past her towards the kid. Neera scrambled back in surprise. Her eyes followed the ball as it floated up in the air back towards the kid.

"Oh, what the fuck," she managed to get out with a sigh as she watched the kid happily keeping the ball in the air without any hands.


	10. Chapter 9

Mando leaned into the cockpit. He found Neera sitting in a seat across from the kid, watching as he entertained himself by sticking the silver ball on his finger.

“Come on, time to go down,” Mando interrupted. The child happily peered up at him, dropped the ball, and then tottered over to be picked up. He latched onto Mando’s vambrace and was lifted up with one swing of the arm.

The kid seemed relaxed and content when Mando put him down in the backroom. There was a little yawn, and Mando gave him an extra tuck of the blanket before closing the door. 

Neera was standing there when he turned around. Her demeanor had changed entirely from mildly amused to completely cold.

"He has the powers of a Jedi," she said simply.

Mando froze. He stared back at her as his hand tightened at his side.

She watched his hand tense. "Most Mandalorians consider them one of their greatest enemies," she added with the same flat tone.

He kept himself positioned between her and the backroom door. "He's a child," he replied warily. She was still barefoot, her armor half-off, and her hair down loose, but somehow she still seemed like a credible threat. 

She wasn’t doing the typical posturing he got from the brawlers and even other Mandalorians. That made him uneasy. Instead, she seemed to eagerly lean in, as if every stoic stance was an opening for conversation. Until now. Now was the first time she seemed poised for something.

"They're not an 'enemy' til grown," he added, a touch of bitterness creeping in at the choice of wording.

She turned her head and snorted a cynical laugh. “So this is why Gideon is after you,” she added. She shook her head. “I don’t understand, how did he end up with you?”

The rifle was still laying on the table between them. He kept her focused on the conversation as he stepped closer to it. “Gideon had a bounty on him,” he added. A quick scan of the room revealed a kitchen knife within her reach. She would know the gaps in his armor, but it was a nearly impossible shot to hit the tiny gap in his neck that could do some actual damage. 

"...’had’?" She seemed to be sitting with that answer while he leaned over to put a hand on the rifle, making sure to tilt his head to protect his neck.

She frowned. “You took in your bounty,” she said in realization, looking more shocked and surprised than accusatory. “That would have meant breaking Guild code. That would have gotten you ostracized.” She was giving him a queer look like she couldn’t quite figure him out.

He pulled the rifle towards him and took a step back, his voice coming out tense and clipped. “He’s not an enemy or a bounty. Like I said, he's my foundling, and he's under my care until I can take him home. That's the Creed.”

She shook her head. “Home where? Most of the Jedi were wiped out a long time ago.”

That made him pause. “I’m sure there are some of his species left,” he finally countered, though it came out with an overcompensating amount of confidence.

“The Jedi are not a single species, just like Mandalorians. As for his species...how do you know they will accept him?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

She didn’t respond but instead looked over his still tense and protective posture. Finally, she sighed and pulled out a chair, careful to keep her hands visible as she sat at the table.

“You need to know what you’re dealing with,” she started. “Everything we have, all of our weapons, are just so we can barely keep up with the Jedi. Their weapon, like the darksaber, can cut through almost any material. We have beskar because it’s the one metal that can barely sustain it. They can move things with their minds, including themselves, and can leap incredible distances. We have jetpacks to try and keep up with them.”

“I’m not worried about him using those powers against me,” he dismissed her.

“That’s not my point,” she said, shaking her head. “Their weapons, the ones similar to the darksaber, have limited use to someone without their powers. The darksaber has a symbolic value to us as Mandalorians...but why does Gideon want it?”

He didn’t have a response.

“To claim control of the Mandalorians?” she considered. “It’s happened before….but there’s not enough of us left to seem worth it now.” She looked at the backroom door. “The fact that he’s looking for this kid too...probably one of the few left with these powers.” She shook her head. “If Gideon’s looking for him, my guess is he’s working under someone else, someone more dangerous.”

He was listening now. “Who?”

She looked at him and seemed suddenly tired. “I don’t know,” she said. “I only recently found out Gideon had the darksaber. I had always thought it was just lost in the Purge. But the fact that he has it, and he’s desperate for one of the few potential Jedis left…” she trailed off.

She looked up at him. “You said you’re going to Eriadu?”

He nodded slowly.

“There was a woman there who knew something of the Jedi.” She quickly glanced at him before clarifying, “I found her when I was looking for the darksaber. It had once been stolen and kept in a Jedi temple,” she added. “At the time, she wasn’t interested in talking to someone from Mandalore about the Jedi, knowing our history, but she could be worth a shot again.”

“What’s her name?” he asked casually.

Neera replied with a shrewd smile, slowly shaking her head. “No, I’m not telling you that,” she said. “I’m going with you. If she’ll talk to us, she might still know something about the darksaber.”


	11. Chapter 10

When she came down, his pauldron was still off where he liked to hold the kid against his shoulder. He put it back on before she could notice that his armor wasn’t on properly. 

She watched as he emptied out a pack on the table. 

“They may not be friendly to a Mandalorian walking in,” she reminded him unhelpfully. 

She had already changed into more unassuming, civilian clothes. It might have been convincing if it wasn’t for the matching scars on her cheekbones combined with the unbent, self-assured posture. Her armor suited her better. 

He pointedly glanced at her unadorned head, and then to the rounded satchel still slung over her shoulder. “Not much I can do about that,” he said dismissively, then gestured at the kid to come over. 

The kid tottered over, chasing after the silver ball floating in front of him. He was getting more playful with his powers; they were going to have to figure out a way to keep them more discrete.

The ball rolled into Neera’s boot, and the kid looked up at her expectantly. She shifted uncomfortably and stole a glance over to Mando before moving her boot a step away. With an awkward mumbling of “No, no more juggling,” she turned to walk out of the ship. 

Mando watched on as the kid’s ears dropped a notch, his big eyes following her out with a dejected expression. The kid looked back up at Mando, confused. With a few murmured consolations, Mando picked him up and placed him in the pack where he could tag along out of sight. 

They walked towards a cantina, the din of a crowd audible from outside. The conversation stopped when they walked in. Neera paused and looked around the room before stopping at the sight of an older, plump woman sitting alone at a table and pouring over some kind of book or ledger. 

“Is that her?” Mando asked.

“Yes,” she answered, but still stood there hesitating.

He looked down at her again, wondering what the hold up was. “Well, let’s go,” he said impatiently, shifting the pack on his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, your Mandalorian resting bitch face is not exactly helping endear us to her,” she muttered, still clearly finding reasons to drag her feet.

He gave her that flat look, then stepped aside, making an exaggerated ‘after you’ motion with his hand. She looked at his outstretched arm, muttered something under her breath about a smart ass, and turned to look back at the woman. Rubbing a hand over her jaw, she tried to conjure up a warm smile and stepped forward.

He watched as Neera limped across the room in an attempt to confidently greet the woman. A few steps from the table, the woman spoke without looking up.

“No,” the old woman said simply. 

Neera hung on for a moment and continued trying to cajole her. Finally, the woman sighed, closed her book, and pushed her glasses down her nose to stare at Neera until she got the message. 

Mando repressed a smirk as he watched her get shot down by this old woman. On his back, he could feel the kid start to squirm. He reached back to loosen the straps a bit and murmured to the little guy, “Hang on, doesn’t look like this will take too long.” 

Neera retreated back to him, the plastered-on smile quickly fading. She pointed a sharp finger at him when she saw his head dip under the flat expression of the helmet. “Wipe that smirk off your face,” she demanded.

“She looks very intimidating,” he teased. 

She grumbled something to herself again. 

“Would money help?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “I’ve tried that, multiple times.” With pursed lips, she turned on her heels. “Come on, there’s someone else that might convince her to talk with us.” He held the door for her as he turned to follow, the kid squirming impatiently on his back. 

“Wait!” a voice called out from behind them. They both stopped and turned. 

The woman was standing at the table, staring at them with wide eyes. She scurried out from behind the table and staggered over to them. Mando realized she was staring at his back. He twisted his head around and realized the child had wiggled his way out, and his big green ears and big eyes were peeking over the top.

“I didn’t know there were more of his kind,” the woman gasped. She gingerly reached a hand towards the child, who happily clasped it in return. The woman gushed out a smile. “Where did you—..., how—” she faltered, then looked back at Mando and Neera. “Come with me, we can talk in the back.”

He and Neera looked at each other, then she shrugged and mimicked his ‘after you’ gesture to let him and the kid follow. 

\------------

They sat around a table in a cramped back office filled with books and bundles of drying plants. The child plopped down on the table in front of one of Mando’s hands, happily picking apart a dried flower. 

“I knew there must have been more like him,” the woman said to herself, smiling as she handed the kid a new plant. 

“Who?” Mando asked. He could feel Neera listening at his side.

“He was just like him, but old, very old—a small, wise creature. I met him when I was foraging; I would trade herbs with him on occasion. Soon we were trading stories instead. He looked weak and unassuming but was incredibly powerful.” She glanced at them both. “Didn’t take long to figure out who he was: one of the few remaining Jedi, hiding in exile after the rest had been massacred.” 

Neera was still listening with the same flat expression. 

“He trusted me to keep his existence a secret,” the woman added. She shot a look at Neera. “I suppose there were too many hoping to bring back a worthy foe to restore some idea of glory.”

“So, the rest of the Jedi were killed off by Mandalorians?” Mando asked.

The woman looked at him like he still had a lot to learn. “No, the other ones with these powers, the, I don’t know what they’re called, the dark ones.” The woman watched as Mando turned to look at the child. “He would tell me how each individual born with these powers would eventually have to make a choice: the light side where they used their power for order, togetherness, and healing, or the dark side, where the powers were but a means to exert their anger and hate in a constant search for conflict, for dominance. He told me how it had gone wrong with one of their own and how it weighed on him.” 

He could feel Neera watching his reaction. He watched the child playing innocently on the table and was silent for a while. When he finally spoke, he chose his words carefully. “I have seen him use his powers to heal...but also to hurt others, but it was always to protect someone else.” 

The woman furrowed her brow and was about to speak when Neera interrupted.

“What do you mean?” she demanded. Mando looked at her, momentarily thrown off by her interruption. 

She impatiently repeated herself, “What do you mean he can heal?”

“He...a friend was dying of a poisoned wound, he cured him with just his hand.” The kid chose that moment to look up at them and give a happy gurgle. 

Mando turned back to continue talking with the woman. Neera interrupted again.

“How did he hurt someone?” she asked. 

Mando looked back and forth from Neera to the woman. “He thought someone was trying to harm me. He used his mind to choke her.” He was starting to feel protective and moved his hand to straighten the kid’s little coat. 

“He used his powers to strangle someone?” She was staring at the kid, perplexed. She turned to the woman. “Are all Jedi able to do that?”

The woman frowned. “I don’t know. I know only some are born with the capability to learn, but it still takes years of training and discipline to develop skills. Never heard of one so young having such abilities.”

Neera pressed on. “And what happens if they’re not trained? He already has powers, is it really that important?”

The woman shrugged and danced a branch in front of the child. “I don’t think they’ll ever develop half of their abilities without it. He’s still young though, plenty of time.”

Neera was unconvinced, “...and what if we can’t find anyone before he grows up?” 

The woman shook her head again. “I don’t know. I know they tried to train them young.” She suddenly looked sad. “He mentioned once how much it haunted him to think of all the young trainees that were slain, students not much older than this one here.” She reached out to pinch his ear, and he looked up at her with a content little smile. 

The woman continued. “He spent so long alone on Dagobah, mourning them all.” 

“Dagobah?” Neera looked up and shook her head. “That’s right nearby. We could be there in a few hours.” She suddenly looked frustrated. “Why are you telling us all this when you refused for so long? Don’t you still have his confidence?”

The woman looked up at her sadly. “Oh, sweetie, he’s gone. I heard he passed on a year or two ago.”

Neera stared at her, then suddenly stood up, her chair screeching under her. She cursed something about wasted time and stormed off to the cantina. 

Mando let her go and leaned forward to continue. “Are you sure? Do you know if there were any others like him, other family, or some mention of where he was originally from?” he asked patiently. 

She shook her head. “He was gone the last few times I was there, but you can go check for yourself, maybe there is something for you to find in his old hut.”


	12. Chapter 11

"This planet is...creepy," Neera remarked from the edge of a putrid swamp.

It had been a constant grey drizzle since they landed. Somehow, the moss-draped forest managed to keep the light out, but the rain still found a way through. Mando could feel the damp cold starting work its way under the plates of armor and seep through his clothes.

He cinched the pack down tighter to keep the kid from the chill and looked down at the map. Neera came to peer over his shoulder.

"Much farther?" she asked, working to stretch her recovering leg. 

He looked over to their right and squinted. "Should be a bit more that way." 

A tug at his pack made him turn in surprise. He found Neera adjusting a strap. When she saw him watching, she returned his look.

"He was sitting awkwardly against your armor," she explained with a shrug. "We Mandalorians have to look out for each other," she quipped as she went ahead to continue walking.

"You're not a Mandalorian anymore," he pointed out as he checked the other strap.

"Then why do I keep catching you saying 'we'?" she called back without turning around.

He watched after her and sighed, then followed behind.

They walked for a while longer. Neera slowed to stare at some point in the distance while the kid started squirming to be let down. Mando reached over to let him out, and the kid eagerly tottered off to a gap between some trees ahead. Mando went to follow, but Neera was still staring off at some point in the woods.

"Neera," he tried to get her attention. She jumped when he said her name, then turned to follow. They came to an opening in the trees and found a small mud hut, its windows dark and overgrown with moss. The child didn't hesitate to totter over and promptly disappeared through the threshold.

Mando followed after him and had to crouch to duck past the door. Inside, he found the kid looking around curiously in the center of a small living space. It was a simple home: a small wood stove in one corner, a dust-covered pantry of clay jars, and stacks of books spread throughout. 

He explored one of the books as Neera walked in; a thick layer of dust was hiding the title. He was reaching for his cape to wipe it clean when Neera leaned over to blow the dust off. She mugged a satisfied smile and then turned to walk over to the woodstove.

He watched her walk away. "You know, if you keep showing off what you can do without the helmet, I'm going to start to think you don't really want it back on," he remarked dryly.

She gave a soft chuckle and squatted down to make a fire.

"We shouldn't stay long," he muttered in a half-hearted protest.

She ignored him and continued building a fire. "Don't you ever want a break from that cold metal hull?" she prodded as she peered in to adjust the flue.

The cold was beginning to soak down to the bone, his damp clothes sticking awkwardly to his skin and leaving an itch on the center of his back. He slid down against the wall to sit on the floor as he flipped through a book. Neera sorted through another stack and did the same against the other wall. The kid busied himself by rummaging through the clay jars within his reach. He knocked over one and gave a sharp excited inhale when a pile of dried bugs spilled out.

Neera made a face. "Should he be eating that?"

Mando looked over, then shrugged and went back to his book. The kid tottered over with his hand happily digging through the jar. Pulling out a dry stretch of his cloak for the kid, Mando lifted up an elbow for him to tuck in next to him. The kid continued nibbling on his snack and sleepily watched as Mando turned the pages.

"Listen to this," Neera spoke up, still staring intently at the pages of one book. "Each Jedi used something called a Kybar crystal to construct their own lightsaber. The kybar crystal's color will depend on the wielder, with the dark side generally having a red lightsaber," she flipped through some pages. "I don't see any mention of the darksaber." 

For the next hour or so, she went between silently reading to herself and then reciting an interesting section out loud. Outside, the rain was still audible beyond the heat radiating from the woodstove. The kid was thoroughly passed out, one hand still buried in the jar. Mando draped a bit of cloak over him and then relaxed his head back against the wall to sit and listen.

After an hour or so, she stopped reading. He could feel her watching them both. The way she was always watching him...predatory was the right word; it was more like she was gauging him, trying to see just how Mandalorian he was. But he had already earned his way in. 

"I'm awake," he said in response to her unspoken question.

She was silent for a while.

"Why don't you just continue raising him as your foundling?" she finally asked. "You're obviously good with him."

He was beginning to admit how much he needed to hear that. "I thought you called him an enemy," he countered.

She shrugged. "Lucky for him, he's cute."

He was quiet for a bit before answering. "He deserves to be around others who understand him, his abilities, not people who see him as the enemy."

Her face was hard to read. He was beginning to realize that she knew perfectly well how to guard her expression when she still wanted to. "What if you can't find anyone?" she asked.

He didn't have an answer. "Do you really believe Paz would kill you for this darksaber?" he asked instead.

She sucked in a breath and leaned her head back against the wall.

"Fight me? Yes. He can be...stubborn. Kill me?" She shook her head. "No. He and I both know that I would win."

She paused before continuing. "I thought I could bring it back and, maybe not be brought back in, but at least have some kind of welcome." She sighed, "but I'd prefer not to have to kill my brother to reunite with my family—especially since he might be one of the few left."

She looked over at the kid sleeping happily next to him and seemed to grow more somber.

"It's not even like we were always so strict on the helmets. It was meant to be the face for our enemies, not for within our own clan. I think that only started once there was so much infighting within Death Watch, or when we lost so many and started to rely on the foundlings. Some sort of restoration of honor was needed, but it must have been more than that. I supposed it's a lot easier to not fear death when you're just one arm of a symbol instead of an actual person others would miss."

She made a cynical sound and shook her head. "Lose one child in training, just collect a new batch of foundlings, pop on a helmet, and pretend it's the same without ever having to mourn your own kid. Take a wound in battle, and you don't have to see the look on your family's faces as you lay there, dying your noble death."

Her words made him feel a sudden pang of guilt at the memory from Nevarro, when he had been so ready to abandon the kid all for the sake of his helmet.

She stopped and swallowed, her head leaning back against the wall. "Two siblings, one mother. Gone one day, someone new wearing their helmets a few months later."

She paused and furrowed her brow. "Nobody said anything," her voice came out with a tone of confusion. "How could no one react to that? It's not even like they were trying to pretend it was the same person, more like… like they just negated that the first person ever mattered. Were we that replaceable? Do you really think he wouldn't care if there was someone else under your helmet?"

Mando stayed still enough to feel the kid breathing steadily next to him.

She blinked something back. "I knew them. I missed them," she managed to get out before her voice faltered. Her hand went to her eye, pulling it in front of her as if to curiously study a tear, rolling it between her fingers.

"There's value in stoicism, I get that," she continued. "But there has got to be something underneath the symbol, otherwise it's just so hollow," she said, frustrated. "It doesn't work. I don't know why we thought it would work. You can't stay together that way, not really."

He didn't say anything, but leaned his head against the wall and took a breath.

She choked back an awkward laugh. "I don't even know who I'm trying to convince anymore; everyone is scattered, wiped out." She picked at a flake of rust on her armor. "Maybe he's right. Doesn't make sense that I would be the one to bring it back; I'm not exactly an exemplar for Mandalorian culture." She flicked the flake of rust to a corner of the room.

"You would let Paz have it?" he asked quietly.

She looked over at him as if she was considering something but only gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She shifted to sit forward, her arms resting on her knees as she seemed to be thinking through something. "I don't understand why he said I chose to leave. What has he thought happened this whole time?" she wondered out loud.

Mando turned towards her, confused. "I thought you chose to remove your helmet?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, considering. Then she seemed to resign herself to something, rubbing her hands over her face and ending with them braced against the back of her head. She let out a steadying exhale. "I was already being kicked out. Showing my face was a last effort to convince my father to let me stay," she admitted.

He kept looking at her, waiting for her to explain.

"Don't want to talk about that; it's too personal, Mando."

He turned away and didn't press any further.

After some silence, he added, "It's Din."

She was looking at him, face inscrutable again.

"My actual name—," he started to explain when she hadn't said anything.

"—I know," she interrupted. "Din, huh? Not what I expected." She paused, then playfully added, "I'm still not telling you."

"Was worth a shot."

She laughed, "That had better not be a made-up name just to weasel an answer out of me."

"It's not," he said, adjusting his cloak over the kid again.

"And the little guy? Please tell me it's not actually womp rat," she asked.

Silence.

"He does have a name, doesn't he?"

He hesitated. "Nothing's fit yet," he added defensively. "It's usually just him and me, so it hasn't seemed important."

"You'll come up with something," she assured him.

They were silent for a while. "Have you ever put it back on?" he eventually asked. It came out more curious than accusatory.

She bit her lip then slowly shook her head. "Always felt wrong," she admitted. "Plus I wasn't sure what I'd even be going back to after the Empire took control of Mandalore."

She furrowed her brow slightly. "I told myself I would put it back on if there was ever an instance where I needed every ounce of beskar...some worthwhile fight," she added. "But it never really came up." She said it with what was supposed to be a laugh, but she seemed embarrassed when it came out more sad than anything else. 

She leaned back and seemed to settle in against the wall. "Din the Mandalorian," she repeated the name. "An orphan country boy from Asedaa."

He shot her a look. "Instead of the wealthy daughter of Mandalore?" he countered.

"We weren't that rich," she said in a half-hearted defense.

"Uh-huh, how many separate houses did you have?"

"Eight," she replied, feigning defensiveness while aware of how ridiculous it sounded. "The training retreat in the mountains didn't count since we shared it with another family."

She grew serious again. "Things were actually pretty bad then, at least within Death Watch," she warned him. "And I can't exactly begrudge the foundlings; they didn't have things much better." She looked at him, considering. "If you ever want to know more...there are things you might not be aware of that I could tell you about if you wanted."

He looked down at the kid. "I get what I need from the Creed to do what I have to do. That's enough," he said, declining.

She nodded and didn't say anything further on the subject.


	13. Chapter 12

“Din…,” the name seeped in while he was still half asleep.

“Din…,” he heard it again. That wasn’t right, he thought. No one called him that anymore.

“Jesus...Get up!” his eyes snapped open as he felt a violent shake to his shoulder. Neera muttered a curse as she yanked a bag out from under his arm, “….womp rats are tearing apart the ship.”

He shook himself awake as Neera rummaged through the bag next to him. She had a nasty-looking scratch on her arm and mud smudged on her face. “Womp rats are only in the desert,” he muttered as he pulled himself to sit up.

“Swamp rats then…I don’t know, but there’s a dozen of them gnawing at the wiring,” she said in a rush as she pulled out a blaster. 

He leaned forward and kneaded a hand into his shoulder. He hated sleeping in the helmet; he always woke up feeling suffocated and with a kink in his neck, and there was still a pestering itch at the center of his back.

“Why were you at the ship?” he asked as he leaned over to gently wake the kid up. The little guy was rubbing his eyes and frowning as he tried to figure out what all the excitement was about.

“I couldn’t sleep; I was out walking it off.” She stashed the blaster at her side and turned to head back out the door. “Come on, there’s too many of them for me,” she said impatiently as she disappeared outside, the kid eagerly following after her.

He finally got up and ducked past the door to follow them out. Neera and the kid were already rushing out ahead of him. By the pink grey haze in one corner of the swamp, he guessed that it was nearly dawn already. 

He should have insisted that they head back to the ship last night instead of letting himself get distracted by late-night chats and bonding sessions. It wasn’t exactly part of the way to let yourself get lost in bemoaning the past.

 _…and how many times a day do you still picture the look of terror on your own parents’ faces. Just because you don’t talk about it…,_ he chided himself. An image from a dream the night before drifted up in front of him. The feeling of relief as someone told him that they had found his parents still alive. They then proudly presented him with two strangers in Mandalorian armor. Neera stood next to him and was watching to see how he would react.

He finally caught up to them at the ship, a squelch of mud sucking in his boots as he came to a stop. He sighed. Strands of wiring sparked and frayed from cracks in the hull. There were about a dozen ugly rodent-looking creatures digging into any nook they could find. They seemed to be scouring for some kind of salt forming around the wiring, gnawing and licking as they dug deeper.

Neera was raising an arm to shoot one when he leaned over to push her hand down. “Don’t shoot my ship,” he said simply. She looked at him as if waiting for him to suggest a better idea. “Turning on the shield will make the scatter.” One creature hissed at him as he went to open the ship door. He shot out a hand to grab it by the scruff of the neck and tossed it aside as it let out a surprised squeal.

The kid jumped out of the way as the creature tumbled past him. He looked anxiously back and forth between the two adults. Mando glanced back to see the kid looking up at Neera expectantly before disappearing through the door. 

Inside, the sound of scratching in the walls filled the space. It was just going to make it that much more satisfying when he turned on the shield and heard them shriek away in surprise. He climbed up to the cockpit and was about to flip the first switch when the scratching sound to his right quieted, and then stopped, followed by a thump. The sound above him suddenly ceased as well, and then the next, until it was suddenly quiet all around him. He sat still, waiting, but didn’t hear any other hint of them scratching at the hull.

Uncertain, he climbed down and went to step back out of the ship. A creature lay strewn on the ground in front of him, unmoving, its eyes wide and tongue lolling out of its mouth. In front of it was another, and then another, all lying dead and strangled from where they had fallen from their grasp on the hull. He looked up. Neera was kneeling in the mud as the kid watched on, studying one of the creatures with her hand as it struggled on the ground gasping for air.

The kid turned expectantly to watch Mando approach. His little green cheeks and big dark eyes now looked calm instead of anxious. Neera looked up from the creature to meet Mando’s eye, her face hidden by that increasingly familiar flat, inscrutable expression. Her eyes turned to the kid, then she stood up and shot the gasping animal to put it out of its misery.

\---------

She could tell he was pissed.

He didn’t say anything until he put the kid down, but then immediately rounded on her.

“You can’t just stand by and let him do that,” he admonished her, clearly frustrated.

Neera stopped, feeling the defensiveness rising. “I didn’t,” she said.

“I had it handled. He’s just a child, we’re not encouraging him to kill.”

“I wasn’t,” she responded through gritted teeth, “but the problem was solved, wasn’t it?”

That just seemed to aggravate him more as he took a confrontational step forward. “That’s not the point,” he countered angrily. 

She squinted at him, not responding well to him getting in her face when she had done absolutely nothing wrong. “What then?” she scowled back, feeling herself dig in. “You expect him to do nothing, living this life, knowing the danger he might be in? He has this power, why wouldn’t you use it?” She could hear him suck in a breath and that just got her more riled up. “Why hide from what he can do? He’s going to want to help you.” 

He took another step forward to try and emphasize his point. “He’s. not. a. weapon,” he said under his breath.

She met his gaze, stubbornly refusing to physically shrink back. 

“Fine,” she begrudgingly relented. 

“—that’s my job,” he added.

“Okay,” she repeated.

They stood there for an extra beat, both awkwardly refusing to be the first to budge. She had the slow realization that she was still covered in muck that was now crusting over. 

“Do you have somewhere to clean up?” she demanded in place of backing down.

She tensed when his response was to lean in closer. For a moment she enjoyed noticing how much taller he was than her, then he reached past her to hit a button on the wall right behind her shoulder. A door slid open next to her revealing the shower closet that had been there the whole time.

She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her enjoyment of the back-and-forth. “Thanks,” she said simply.

“You’ve got about 3 min of lukewarm water,” he explained impatiently.

She shifted to try out the valves for the water. “That’s not very long,” she said.

“It’s enough to get the job done.”

She rolled up a sleeve to test the temperature of the water. “Yeah but it doesn’t sound very enjoyable,” she countered, making sure to keep a straight face.

He gave her that flat, helmeted look, and then cranked the hot water off, making her flinch as it turned to ice on her skin.

“The more you talk, the more hot water you waste,” he shot back as he turned to walk away. 

She feigned a scowl and flicked some of the cold water at him as he walked off, but it just glanced off his shoulders without him noticing. She turned back to the water and laughed to herself, then furrowed her brow and quietly cursed. 

\------

She carried two bowls of soup up to the cockpit, bringing food for the kid and herself. She found him pouring over one of the books they had brought with them as the kid fiddled with the signet on his armor. 

“I’m all done if you want me to watch him for you,” she told him.

He simply nodded and stood up to pass her the kid, handing over the little silver ball as well. The kid watched him go and attempted to float the little ball after him, but it just hit the door as it slid shut and then fell to the floor. 

“I don’t think he knows how to juggle, bub,” Neera patiently explained as she went to retrieve the ball. It had rolled onto the track of the door and blocked it from shutting all the way. She bent down to pluck up the ball; it had left a gap in the doorway that let her see down to the cabin below. Her hand hovered over the ball. By the sound of his footsteps and the scraping of the chair she guessed he was just about to sit down to eat. She realized she was holding her breath as she kept her eyes determinedly fixed from glancing up. She stared at the ball. Even it had the tiniest bit of surface that reflected the shapes from down below.

The nightmare from the night before was still at the front of her mind. She was standing in the dark in front of rows and rows of stoic Mandalorians, the darksaber finally in her hand. One by one she went between them and lopped off their helmeted heads with a swing of the sword...only to reveal nothing underneath. When she finally came to him, she hesitated, then finally swung the sword, only for it to be stopped mid-swing by a solid beskar core.

Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. She removed the ball and slid the door closed with a soft click. 

\-----

He hovered over the bowl of soup already on the table. She must have laid out the third setting for him before taking up food for herself and the kid. He reached up to take off his helmet. The sound of a soft click above made him look up at the door above. He stared at the closed door for a few beats but didn’t see any sign of movement. He glanced at it one more time than sat down in front of the bowl. Above, he could hear the muffled sound of Neera saying something to the kid and him giggling in response. Somehow the clink of the spoon against the bowl sounded louder than normal with their voices in the background. 

He finished and drew a hand through his hair, rubbing the growing stubble on his jaw as he stared again at the closed door. He hadn’t shaved in a while. He needed to clean up. Most likely she had already used up all the hot water. He got in anyways and found himself idling longer than usual, taking a moment to let the still warm water hit the back of his neck while he let himself enjoy the sensation. Finally, he sighed, making himself stay there a few extra beats as the water ran cold. 

He could still hear them when he headed back up. Standing outside the door, he heard the kid squawking something and Neera replying with a persistent ”No, ‘D-’, say ‘Dd-’.”

He finally opened the door and saw Neera jump as the objects they had been juggling fell to the floor.

“You scared me,” she swore as the kid ran over to greet him. 

“I just need to get something,” he explained as he walked over to the corner dash to pull out some charts. He could feel her hovering behind him, stalling as if she wanted to say something. 

“I know you said you would take me as far as Eriadu,” she said hesitantly, “but I was thinking that it’s better to stay together; we at least have the same goals for now.

He turned to look at her for a moment, then turned back to his task. “Okay,” he responded.

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s it?” she asked. “I barely gave a convincing argument. What, do you just like having me around?” she teased. 

He kept rummaging through the charts until he found the one he was looking for and turned to walk back out. As he walked by her he placed a hand on her shoulder and responded with a simple “Happy to have you here, Neera” before he went back down below. 

She slipped a glance over her shoulder to watch him walk out, then turned back forward and cleared her throat. She looked over to see the kid watching her. 

“...what are you staring at?” she demanded.

The kid kept watching her... and then floated the ball to her once again.

“More juggling?” she raised an eyebrow and gave a soft laugh. “You’re already way better at this than I am.”


	14. Chapter 13

The kid was especially eager to find new buttons to push today. He had discovered a new corner of the flight controls with a series of green buttons. When the ship gave a loud rattle, Din finally had to grab him.

"Stop that," he chided, pulling the kid onto his lap.

He heard her walk into the cockpit as he scrolled through the screen, the kid looking on contently from his lap. The little guy had suddenly grown fascinated with making little noises, practicing smacking his lips until it became a babble of 'mwap, mwap, mwap' noises.

"You're low on food," she pointed out.

"I know," he responded as he continued scanning through the latest Guild work.

"...and we could still use repairs on the wiring," she added. 

He didn't bother responding as he continued scrolling through jobs.

While he looked, she absentmindedly looked over the flight controls, then reached over to a dimly lit orange button.

"Don't touch that," Din protested. She looked up at him, giving one last twist of the button before pulling her hand away.

"It was loose," she explained.

He looked over to see the orange button glowing brighter again.

"...Thanks," he admitted.

She came over to lean on the dash in front of him and see what he was looking at. He had to lean his leg out of the way when she leaned in closer, and he glanced up to see her looking far more comfortable than he was used to seeing someone in his cockpit. 

"I need to pick up a job first," he finally explained. He waited for her to make the usual teasing quip, something about spending all his money on his armor, but she just quietly looked on. 

The kid looked up from his place on his lap, holding on to Din's pauldron and making sure to tell Neera a pointed 'Mop!'

Din glanced at him. "I think he's trying to talk."

"Huh," was all Neera said as she gave the kid a playful tug on his ear before telling him that there was food below. As if he hadn't heard her multiple times trying to teach the kid.

She helped pick him up and sent the kid scurrying out of the room, leaving Din's lap empty and the two of them alone. Din stayed perfectly still as he felt her glance at the still-open door behind them, but, against the expectations that had been building in his head lately, she stayed where she was and didn't get up to close it. Instead, she simply peered closer to look at the screen with him. 

He still wasn't quite sure where to place her. She definitely liked to toe the line into flirting. He was used to the women who were just into the armor (more than seemed healthy), the women who were sweet as long as they thought they would be the ones to remove it, and then the Mandalorian women who were direct and no-nonsense and would tell you if they wanted something and be done with it. 

He honed in on one job, and she sucked in a breath. "He looks nasty…" She paused and pointed at the screen, "What about that one?" she suggested.

"Eh…" he hesitated. "I'm pretty sure he's already at the bottom of a Sarlacc pit." 

She placed a hand against his chair behind his shoulder to lean in closer, her knee knocking up against him. He tried to lean his leg farther away.

She definitely noticed. She looked down at his awkward, tense posture, then simply slipped a hand under the thigh plate of his armor to pick up his leg and move it clear out of the way. 

"Is that more comfortable for you?" she teased, looking back at the screen. "You can relax; I'm not some Mandalorian groupie," she reassured him. 

_Mandalorian then_ , he thought, ... _sort of._

"I know," he said, shifting to give her the respect of another Mandalorian. "You are just playing around and not actually flirting," he acknowledged.

"No, I definitely was," she said, squinting at the screen as she looked through some options. "I just haven't figured out what to do with that yet."

"That's blunt," he pointed out with a tilt of his head.

She shrugged. "Don't be weird about it," she said, then went back to looking at the screen.

He leaned in closer as they continued scrolling through the options. He finally settled on two. She gave a nod of approval then looked up with that wolfish grin. "First one to bring home the bounty gets to pick the next round of food?"

He hesitated, admittedly tempted at the idea of some friendly competition. "Someone needs to watch the kid," he pointed out. 

"Then I guess you'll be eating a lot of meiloorun fruit," she smirked. "Or did you think I was going to babysit for you while you got to do all the fun stuff?"

He tapped his fingers on the dash, thinking while he went back to scrolling through the screen. "This one," he said, pulling up a job. 

She looked closer and raised an eyebrow. "Tatooine?" 

He nodded.

"So you know of a good place there to buy me my dinner?" she quipped.

He only gave a disapproving sound in response.

She held back a smile, standing up to go down and get her armor. 

"There are consequences to being nice, Mando," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder to mimic his earlier gesture as she walked out.

\-----

He walked out to the dusty mechanic's bay. Pelli Moto crossed her arms as she watched him approach. 

"Back so soon?" the curly-haired woman prodded at him. "See you haven't been kind to this poor ship since you were last here."

"I'm going to need your services again." 

"Uh-huh." She glanced behind him to see Neera inside, setting down the kid as he squirmed free. Pelli turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "I see you have company this time."

"...and I'll need you to watch the child while we're gone," he added.

She restrained a smile as the child toddled towards her, then put back on the stern face. "I'm not a babysitter, you know," she said as she bent to pick up the kid. She gave the kid some lovey eyes then turned back to Mando. "You can't just drop him off here anytime you please."

"I'll pay you handsomely—"

"—Yeah, yeah," she waved him off as she brought her attention back to the kid. As he turned to go back to the haggard-looking ship, she looked up from the kid. "No droids, right?" she called after him. 

He hesitated. "Droids are fine," he murmured. 

Neera gave him a quizzical look as he walked back in. "Why no droids?"

He shook his head as he spread the job details out on the table. "Droids are the reason I was a foundling," he explained, trying to sound matter-of-fact. 

She was silent in response to that; he snuck in a sideways glance to see her turn away with that familiar flat, expressionless look. She came back over with a cup of mint tea to join him at the table. "The client is a casino owner. He wants us to bring in a former colleague of his. Apparently, he had a bit of a gambling problem and lost a sizable amount of money owed to a local warlord," he explained. "Client's expecting the bounty to show up tonight for some kind of lottery."

She set down the cup and reached over for another piece of her armor. "I would have thought you were on the outs with the Guild after taking in the kid," she asked as she focused on attaching her breastplate. 

He looked at her for a moment. It was still strange to be in the same room with someone while they were putting on beskar. "For a time," he conceded, turning back to the plans.

She leaned forward with the cup in her hand as she studied the casino layout. "I bet you had to wreak some havoc to get him away from the Guild," she murmured to herself as she took another sip. 

He looked at her again. She seemed to be enjoying that thought a little too much. "...you could say that," he added watchfully as she continued savoring the idea. He tried to focus back on the plans. "We need to grab the bounty and the money and deliver them both to the warlord."

She put the cup down and leaned a shoulder in to look closer at the layout, frowning. "He'll be looking for bounty hunters. The armor is going to stick out like a sore thumb." She suddenly straightened up and started looking around the room.

He tried to keep talking but was distracted by her rummaging around the ship. Rooting through his shelves, she finally seemed satisfied after pulling out a length of cloth buried under some supplies. She folded it in half, then held it up to her shoulders to look at the width against her body. 

She held it up to him. "Is this important?" she asked.

"Not really, why—," he managed to get out before she ripped a tear in the middle. He let out a sigh as she plucked at the loose threads. 

He tried to return his focus to the building layout in front of him, but he could see her switching to removing her armor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stepping a foot onto the chair to start at the laces of one boot. 

Unable to ignore it any longer, he finally interrupted her. "What are you doing."

"Doing what no Mandalorian can do…" she winked at him as she yanked free the second boot, "...blending in." 

He tensed as she removed the last of the armor and went to the ties on her overshirt.

"You could change in the backroom, you know," he suggested.

She made a face. "It's not like I'm naked," she pointed out, then saw how he tensed awkwardly over the plans on the table. The edge of her lip twitched up to a smile. "Besides, it's more fun to see you get all uncomfortable," she added while continuing to change.

He muttered something to himself and walked out. 

"That helmet does you know good if I can still see you blushing," she called out after him. He knew better than to try and say anything in defense.

Finding himself displaced outside, he stood there uncertainly for a moment. The light was beginning to fade, and it was getting late. He drummed his fingers impatiently. She was right; she would beat him to it if she could remain inconspicuous. Glancing around for any possible advantage, he noticed the other repair bay with a bike peeking out from under a tarp. With a twinge of satisfaction, he went to go find Pelli. 

When he returned to the ship, he found Neera in a makeshift dress that was barely an improvement from the original cloth. A black cord wrapped around her waist a few times was the only thing holding the two sides together. She was dabbing a finger in a tin of red-tinted grease and attempting to use the ship hull as a mirror. On her upper arm was a tattoo with an awkward looking design that didn't quite suit her. He shook his head as he walked by to get his supplies. On the way back out, he couldn't but couldn't help but slow as he passed her. 

"Are you really going in there with no weapon?" has asked as he looked her over. "...or shoes?" he added as he glanced down.

She smiled patiently as she finished dabbing red on her lips. "My boots won't exactly work. I'll find what I need on the way." 

He looked down at her bare feet. "And how exactly are you going to steal someone's shoes out from under them?"

She turned to him as he looked judgmentally at her lack of gear. "Don't worry," she teased, dabbing a finger in the red grease to annoyingly reach up and replace his disapproving tone with a smile painted on his helmet. "I would think it's easier than stealing a certain Mandalorian's blaster from his holster." 

His hand flashed up and snatched the tin of grease before she could react. 

"—Hey," she protested too late.

"Going to have to be a bit faster than that," he countered, tossing the tin out of her reach as he went. "And you should really rethink that design if you want to cover up an old Imperial prison tattoo; that one is still obvious."

Before he could walk off, she gave a sharp whistle. He turned. "Wipe that smile off your face," she reminded him as she reached down to rip the bandage off her leg. 

He lifted a corner of his cape to wipe off the red grease before heading back outside. 

The bike was his. He could take his time stashing his gear on the back before getting in the saddle. She would have to get there on foot or wait to call a ride, giving him plenty of a head start. Pelli stood nearby, bouncing the kid on her hips as she waited to see him off. He started the bike, then turned in surprise when he felt Neera getting on behind him. 

He turned and stared at her. "I thought we were each going our own way," he pointed out.

She swung a leg around the saddle behind him. "This is my way," she said flippantly as she wrapped a hand around the bar behind her to hold on. "You're welcome to try and kick me off." 

He considered it for a moment, then sighed, and turned back around to go. 

Pelli stood to the side and lifted the kid's hand to wave goodbye. "You two kids have fun!" she called out. 

They rode into town, the streets increasingly filled with people the closer they got. A few blocks from the casino, he could feel her turn to watch a group of well-dressed women walk by. She tapped him on the shoulder to slow down, and she hopped off before he could come to a full stop. He turned just enough to see her following the group of women. As soon as she was out of sight, he pulled on the throttle and sped towards the casino.

It was dark by the time he arrived. A bouncer gruffly greeted him and, upon seeing the Mandalorian armor, he let him in without a word. The room was filled with brightly lit games and an empty stage upfront. He found the casino owner at a table tucked under the shadow of the balcony. 

The small, frog-like man sat at the table sandwiched between two bodyguards. "Ah, excellent," the man said as he saw Mando approach, "now we can finally start the clock." He looked back to nod at some worker behind him, who quickly scurried up to the stage to turn on a large countdown clock. The crowd murmured excitedly in response. Wordlessly, Mando sat down across from the man. 

"What exactly is your plan here?" he asked. 

"Tonight is our Grand Lottery!" the man announced with mocking grandeur he was clearly tired of. "My former partner wouldn't miss it for the world. A bit of an addiction, I'm afraid," the owner explained behind an unctuous smile before he turned more matter-of-fact. "Grab him after the prize is drawn and take him—and the prize purse—to our friend down the road. Take your payment from the purse."

Mando paused, taking in the wealthy looking crowd eagerly awaiting the prize. "You rigged the prize for him," he said. 

The man followed Mando's gaze to the crowd filling up the casino. "They are all here knowing that the house always wins, as long as they have a good show in the process," he explained dismissively. 

Mando was scanning the room as he listened to the man. He stopped when he spotted Neera in the crowd. She didn't quite fit in. Everyone else was crammed and hidden away behind their layers of costumes; she just had her body with a simple cloth draped over it as a dress. It seemed to be working for her, though. One man was hanging on to her as she flirtatiously kept him at bay. His holster was already empty. Mando lowered his gaze to check out some absurd looking red shoes she had managed to find before turning back to the owner. 

"I should warn you," the owner added. "our friend is likely to try and make a run of it." 

He gave the owner his typical flat inscrutable expression. "And why is that?" 

"I'm sure you know that Terrellian Jumpers can be tricky to keep up with." 

Mando turned to him, annoyed. "Your puck just happened to leave that out," he pointed out as the owner shrugged. "That is going to cost you more," he said.

He let that sink while he went back to surveying the room. Neera had managed to move herself and the man closer to the stage. She looked up in time to catch his eye, distracting her from keeping the other man at bay as he began nuzzling and kissing her neck. The rising flush to her cheeks as she held his gaze left him with a sudden tightening in his stomach. She suddenly broke eye contact and turned to coyly push the man off of her when he tried to slip a hand through the slit of her dress. She really should have worn her armor. 

The owner noticed him watching her. "Not one of ours, I'm afraid, but perhaps we can offer you some of our other services instead of increased payment? We do have some pleasure droids if you prefer to be without the helmet." The owner leaned forward conspiratorially, "or...we also still have a favorite of an old Mandalorian customer. Her sight was removed to better serve him without his helmet. Not a great investment for her, unfortunately. She's been lonely for work since there have been fewer of your kind around."

Mando slowly turned towards the man. _That's not even how that works,_ he thought to himself. But he held his tongue; it would likely just cause more trouble for the woman.

He looked up to see the owner already calling Neera over.

"You there, woman!" he gestured at her. It was met with the briefest flash of annoyance underneath the otherwise blank smile she had painted on her face. She took one last longing glance at the stage, then reluctantly walked over.

"Come join our table," the owner demanded.

"Oh no, I couldn't," Neera demured.

"Why not?" the owner continued to push while Mando happily took advantage of the moment to try and scan the room.

Neera paused for a moment, clearly trying to think of an excuse. "...I'm very shy," was all that she finally came up with.

Mando found himself having to bite back a laugh while he scanned the room. _Terrible liar_ , he thought to himself.

The owner continued pressing, looking for a way to keep buttering him up. "My friend here noticed you across the room, isn't that right?"

Mando looked at Neera, then looked at her previous companion with the now empty holster. "Very disarming," he said in response. 

That got a glint of amusement from her. 

"Can we get back down to business now?" he asked impatiently, giving Neera the opening to slip back away. He calmly glanced up at the countdown clock already running down. "I want 5% more."

The man squirmed in his seat and hesitated before finally relenting. "Fine, you can take it from the prize purse."

"I don't want some warlord after me for taking more than my cut," he held firm. 

The man glanced nervously up at the countdown then snapped a finger at one of his employees. He instructed him to go add more money to the chest. "Now hurry up and do your magic," he finished as he looked over at someone walking into the room. Mando turned to see the tall, lanky, green-blue Terrellian standing out amongst the crowd. Surrounding him were four heavily-armed bodyguards. 

Mando stood up and glanced over. Neera had seen the bounty walk and furtively glanced back at him to check in on her competition. Mando began edging closer to the stage, making sure to keep under the balcony where he could remain in the shadows. The crowd started to gather towards the front as the countdown pressed on, and a man prepared to pull the final winning number. 

Neera went to extricate herself from the man she was with to join the rest of the crowd. When he protested with an arm against the bar to block her path, she simply knocked his weighted hand out from under him and threw his head against the bar. Keeping her eyes on the stage, she lowered his weight against the bar so no one would notice the unconscious man, and then continued walking towards the stage. 

He saw her steal a glance over at him one more time, but then dart her eyes upward at something on the balcony above him. Her eyes shot back to him. Seeing the alarm in her look, he cursed. He went to move out from under the balcony to see what surprise might be above. Behind him, he could hear the crowd joining the countdown on the stage. "3...2.." As he stepped out, he saw a man scurrying away from some object placed above. He sighed and tried to cover himself before he felt the blast knock him over.


	15. Chapter 14

The small blast rushed over him. He looked up just in time to see the hazy cloud of debris pierced by a concrete pillar falling straight towards him. Before he even had time to brace himself, another pillar came tumbling down, knocking the first off its course to just miss him. Taking the briefest of seconds to catch his breath, he finally had a moment to glance around. Neera was running towards him with a concerned look on her face, someone's pilfered blaster already in her hand.

He waved her off as he staggered up. Behind her, the crowd was frantically streaming towards the exits. She looked back at the crowd, saw the lanky blue Terrellian slipping through a door, and then turned back to shoot him one last wicked grin before taking off after the prize.

When he caught up to her, she was pinned down at the corner before the back corridor. One bodyguard was dead in front of her, and two more were firing from some makeshift barricade. She was clearly held back by her lack of armor; he'd tease her about her choice of outfits later. He could feel her pause to watch him as he strode into the corridor. He easily took out one shooter, only taking one glancing blast on the beskar from the second man who quickly retreated farther down the hall. Reaching for a stun grenade at his side, he stalked after the man. He didn't bother protesting when Neera slipped in behind him to take advantage of the cover.

She pulled up next to him when he paused at the next corner. A quick glance around the side was met with a barrage of gunfire. The man was too well barricaded to simply shoot through him. He palmed the grenade in his hand when he heard Neera let out a surprised curse and felt himself yanked sideways. A round to his back made him take a lurching step forward as she used him as a temporary shield. She was clutching the front of his cape to keep him there as she fired at someone behind them. He stood there impatiently as he gave her enough to space to tuck in the front of him and waited for her to finish.

"May I go now?" he asked dryly when she was finally done. She glanced up almost in surprise, looked down at her hand clutching the folds of fabric on his chest, then held his gaze as she gave a pointed release of her grasp.

He sucked in a frustrated breath.  _ Don't look at me like that right now, _ he thought as he finally tossed the grenade at the man barricaded in front of them.

The hallway finally cleared, he sprinted through the door to the street outside. Spinning around quickly, he saw no signs of the bounty on the surrounding streets as Neera came up next to him.

"There!" she suddenly shouted, grabbing his arm with excitement as she pointed to a ladder stretching up a nearby building. The Terrellian was scurrying up the side, prize purse slung over one shoulder as he glanced back at them before disappearing over the side of the roof.

Neera took off after him. Mando watched her go, then turned and calmly walked back to the bike. Everyone knows you can't keep up with a Terrellian on foot.

His bike raced along the streets below the buildings, following the trail of fallen flowerpots and cursing residents as he trailed their chase along the rooftops. The Terrellian made a simple leap between two buildings and gave a look of frustration when he realized Neera was still managing to follow. Mando glanced ahead and sped forward to an upcoming large gap between the buildings. He pulled the bike up and waited.

The Terrellian went sailing overhead, arms circling as he tried to maintain forward momentum. He landed soundly on the other side of the inhuman jump and kept running. Mando twisted his head around as Neera followed after him. She started farther left, attempted to vault into the empty space...and fell short of the roof only to crash onto an awning just below. The steep awning left her sliding towards the edge; her skidding descent only stopped by a foot braced against the bar framing the tarp. Her arms circled precariously as she tried to keep her weight from falling backward. When she finally managed to grab hold of a side edge, she let out a relieved laugh, then scramble up to pull herself onto the rooftop.

He gave a shake of his head before racing the bike forward to the next, larger gap between the buildings. The Terrellian was well ahead of her by now, but even he hesitated at the next jump. The bounty circled back to get a running start, and Neera dropped to one knee and lined up her aim to shoot. As the Terrellian went for the jump, she fired on the guardrail bordering the roof, causing it to collapse under the man's foot as he attempted to launch. Instead, the bounty went crashing through a series of awnings and market stalls before ending up in a pile on the ground.

Mando pulled up to the still moaning Terrellian on the street below. Lashing his hands and feet together, he tossed him and the prize purse onto the back of his bike and then looked up at the rooftops above. Neera was leaning over the side; she let out a light-hearted frustrated curse as she saw him gather up the bounty. He responded with a taunting salute to thank her for the delivery and then took off with the bounty and cash to the drop-off.


	16. Chapter 15

He was waiting for her at the end of the road. She had kept up her futile run just for the sake of being obstinate and was still winded by the time she found him leaning leisurely against the bike. Somehow, he still managed to look smug despite the helmet. She slowed to a stop, swallowing a breath before tentatively peeking open one eye.

“Best out of three?” she suggested.

The helmet moved slowly side-to-side, the bike already loaded with food and supplies. He took a moment to look her up and down.

“Need a ride?”

She followed his gaze down to her feet; the soles were blackened after ditching the shoes midway through the run. The rest of her did not look much better. With a soft laugh, she feigned a nonchalant shrug before walking over.

As he turned to start the bike, she snuck a peek at the contents of the bag. Inside was a knot of toads for the kid and, below that, a bundle of meiloorun fruit for her. She flipped the lid back over before he could turn around. The bike hummed underneath her when she got on, and this time she sat forward to slide one arm around him. He looked down at her arm but didn’t say anything before starting.

It was cold by the time they got back, the bay dark except for one lonely light illuminating the ship. Coming to a stop, he glanced down at her arm still looped around him; goosebumps were noticeable under a faint collection of nicks and scars from too many skirmishes without the armor. The arm slipped away as she straightened to look over at Pelli’s door.

After a beat, she cleared her throat. “Should we get him?”

There was a faint light on within Pelli’s window. He stared at it abstractly as if he didn’t already know what decision he was going to make. “No,” he finally said. “It’s late; I’ll get him in the morning.”

She didn’t say anything but instead got off the bike, walked up to the ship, then half-turned to look back at him as she waited by the illuminated door. 

Seeing her standing there, expectantly waiting for him...it took him a minute to remind himself that she was just locked out. Swinging the bag of supplies over his shoulder, he walked up to meet her, arm reaching past her to hit the keypad. The door whooshed open in front of them. They both stood there to look into the empty, quiet ship.

She broke first, moving to step inside. The feel of his hand on her lower back made her turn with a raised eyebrow, but then he just used it to nudge her past the control panel so he could get inside to close the door. 

That little overinterpretation finally made her laugh. She shook her head; her ambivalence was showing. Instead of continuing inside, she relented, leaning back against the wall to fully watch him as he closed the door behind them.

Finished, he turned to look back at her. 

She let herself blatantly look him over. No subtle smiles, no searching looks, just a cold reflective sheen to project whatever she’d like onto it. Still though...

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. This was not what she was here for. Straightening, she turned to say goodnight.

Instead, she found herself frowning. “You have a tear in your armor,” she said accusingly. 

He looked down at the rip at his side. “It’s just the fabric,” he pointed out, but his voice slowed when he found her reaching up to study the frayed edge. 

“...It didn’t reach the skin,” he added when her fingers slipped through.

There were layers of canvas and padding and softer cloth underneath, and then her fingers hit skin, her eyes flashing up at him when he immediately sucked in a breath in response. 

He took one look at her expression and decided that was enough. He went to drop the bag from his shoulder to just pull her in and be done with it...but then everything happened more abruptly than he had intended, the bag hitting the floor with a burst of sound, everything spilling out in a haphazard and confused display. The sight of the fruit he had bought her scattered across the room made her exhale, hand slipping in further, trying to get past the layers of heavy fabric. When her hand finally pressed against his skin, he found himself taking a step into her, stumbling over the fruit until they both ended up bumping against the counter. Each drop in stoicism just triggered the next one, the little allowances suddenly feeling maybe okay. 

Her hand was still trying to find a way through the tight tear, the other hand left with nothing but handfuls of metal and fabric. Frustrated, she was about to go for rest of the armor when he pulled off a glove and placed a bare hand against her skin, crossing through the slit of her dress that had been taunting him all night. 

The shock of the bare touch made her choke out a sound, reflexively going for a kiss before she realized her mistake. His hands were pulling at her, getting ahead of her, the rag of a dress increasingly hitched up against the counter, while she struggled to find her own way in. 

With a breathless curse, she shook her hand out from the tear and went for the fabric above his breastplate instead, finally wrestling it away to unveil the lines of his neck disappearing beneath the helmet. The press of his hands stalled when she leaned in to place a kiss just below his collarbone, his chest visibly rising and falling while her fingers draped just outside the helmet, fingertips brushing right along the boundary. She had to swallow a breath when his hand drifted between her legs, just grazing her with a light touch. It teased at her, the touch distracting her from the careful placement of her hands just below the helmet, a sound escaping her when he pressed in harder, breaking her enough that her fingertips slid just inside his helmet.

His hands immediately shot up to stop her.

“Wait,” he protested, grip tight on her wrists. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her hands. 

She swallowed and shook her head. “I won’t,” she said, shaking her head again. “I know. I won’t,” she promised, repeating it again. 

The grip on her wrists loosened. She could tell he was watching her when she returned to kiss the dip of his collarbone. His hands relaxing back to her waist, returning to touch her, her own hands stretching to wrap around the back of his neck. 

Then her hand glanced against a wave of hair at the nape of his neck. 

The desperate noise that escaped her just made him dig in more, leaning into her while her fingers tried in vain to twist around the lock of hair. She was clutching at him, hands suddenly driving deeper to press up against the roots of his hair. 

The sound he made in response just about killed her. His hand immediately dropped out of the way to instead squeeze his full weight against her, wedging her hard between him and the counter. It was all she could do to help step out of the last thin layer under her dress as he cursed under his breath. She was already rising to meet him as he both pulled her in and hoisted her up, her hands slipping higher, the walls of the helmet tighter against the back of her hands the further she pushed in. _Just a little more_ , she thought, feeling his heartbeat under her hand, thinking of kissing the underside of his jaw, the pace of his breath under her lips. _They could do just a little more_ , she thought again, feeling the metal shifting to take her in.

Her wrists were suddenly pulled away and slammed back against the counter. His head dropped in front of her, bowed in some attempt at restraint as he leaned over her to hold back her hands. She sat there and blinked, realizing what she had almost done. She could still feel the metal shifting against the back of her hands, the intoxicating feeling of her hands pushing deeper.

Her finger twitched. She looked down and saw his bare hand pinning hers, fingers intertwined, his hand and wrist immediately disappearing behind the metal vambrace. The metal was cold and sharp and dug uncomfortably into her skin.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and swallowed, then reluctantly forced herself to slip her hands out from under his.

She cleared her throat. “The beskar is cold against my skin,” she said simply. She swung a leg out from under him, standing up to straighten her dress, and then walked off to the back room. The door slammed shut behind her, a piece of the scattered fruit on the floor left spinning in her wake.

“Wait,” he finally managed to get out again. 

He leaned his head against the wall and sighed.

\-------

As soon as it reached dawn, he went to bang on Pelli’s door. She came out holding the kid and raised a curious eyebrow, the kid greedily reaching out to him with another 'Mwap!'

“Fun night?” she asked.

He grumbled something as he took the kid from her.

The kid in hand, he walked up to the cockpit. Neera was already inside, helmet on and sitting off to one side. She didn’t turn in response. He wavered at the door, then stepped in and set the kid in the center before sitting down to his own side.

The kid eagerly went for the silver ball to roll it happily in front of him. He slowed when he noticed the silence in the room, glancing back and forth at them both with a questioning look.


	17. Chapter 16

That one image wouldn't go away. Something as simple as a blindfold, the cloth tied behind her head, a slight knowing smile in anticipation, and then free to lift off the helmet to hold between his hands. He had no trouble imagining a kiss along a hand or neck, that was easy, but the moment he reached the lips, it fell apart. He just couldn't quite hold the image before it reverted to a metal wall.

One last frustrated tug of the wrench finally freed the jammed pressure valve. He sat on the cockpit floor with the repairs and rubbed the back of his neck. "... that's not even how that works," he muttered to himself.

He could hear them both down below. He should go down; he didn't really need to be working on this right now. He looked absentmindedly over at the door while he tried in vain to dig the wrench under his backplate to finally reach that itch.

When he did finally drop down, Neera was attempting to roll the ball towards the kid. She frowned when the ball rolled right past him; the little guy instead focused on rifling through some side cabinets.

He still couldn't tell what she was thinking. It had been a quiet, awkward day or two since the other night, and he kept waiting for her to make some comment, some quip. Instead, her expression was just flat and unreadable. It was...frustrating. And, yes, he recognized the irony of that.

Din glanced at them while grabbing some food to take back to the privacy of the cockpit. After a moment, he spoke up. "I don't like how close we are to Gideon's last location. I'm going to stop at this New Republic base up ahead; Greef has a contact there who owes him a favor."  
"Fine," she replied, eyes never leaving the kid.

They both watched as the kid pulled out a few plates of Din's old armor from a box buried in the back.

Neera frowned, adding, "I know a smuggler there. I'll see if he has any more unofficial news."

"Good," was all he added, then went back up to set their course.

It took a while to get through the security at the newly restored domed base. When he came down, Neera was already in her more civilian costume with a simple wrap tunic. It looked like she had paid more attention to her appearance; her hair was down loose and brushed out instead of the typical practical braid.

He was trying to get a look at her expression while she packed her satchel, but the kid kept tugging at his boot. His little green hands had gone from trying to climb the ladder to straining up at Din. Picking him up to lift him to the cockpit, Din attempted to return his attention to Neera before she could leave, but the kid immediately asked for him again, gesturing towards the armor left behind. He picked that up too, the kid dragging it into the cockpit as well.

Neera was also watching as the kid anxiously paced around the cockpit.

"We shouldn't stay here long," she added simply, then went back to packing her bag.

Din glanced back at the kid one last time to make sure he was okay, then turned back around, hitting the controls on his vambrace to close the cockpit door behind him.

When he looked up, Neera was casually eyeing the now closed door. Her face was still expressionless—though he thought he could pick up on some readiness behind the flat front. _Whatever_ , he thought, _it wasn't his job to interpret it_.

He walked past her to grab something by the hatch.

"I'll come find you when I'm done," he explained.

That seemed to interrupt her study of the cockpit door. "No," she said, a little too forcefully, then added, "My contact... he's not a fan of Mandalorians. I'll meet you back here."

He started to explain that he wanted to make sure they weren't followed, that they should meet at the market instead. She looked up at him briefly but then immediately seemed distracted by something at his neck, staring at it briefly before quickly turning away to pack the last of her gear.

His frustration finally leaked to the surface. "Are you listening?"

She shot him a look, then picked up her bag to leave. When she was about to pass him, she stopped. Pursing her lips and taking a breath, she reached up to fix a revealing gap in the cloth at his neck.

"Meet at the market. Got it," she countered with a prudish pat of his collar, then went to walk out.

His hand unconsciously reached up to the spot she had just touched. Then he scowled. This was ridiculous; one of them needed to call out the elephant in the room. There was nothing wrong with talking about this.

He caught her hand to stop her. "Wait," he insisted, his tone coming out a bit more patronizing than he had intended.

There were a few resigned backward steps as she let him pull her back in. But when she turned and saw the familiar wall of armor, she just grew indignant.

"What?" she huffed, then took a confrontational step forward. "What? What do you want?"

The reflective sheen of the helmet just stared back at her.

She eyed the reflection, then laughed, shaking her head at herself. Looking him over, she instead brought up a hand to anxiously bite a nail.

 _So...frustrated then_ , he thought.

She finally made herself drop her hand. Her voice was softer this time. "What do you want?" she repeated.

He realized that he didn't have anything specific to say. They were both just hovering there, and instead of saying something, he just reached up to toy with the tie on her tunic.

She didn't move from his hand. "I almost took off your helmet," she pointed out while he studied the crisscross of ties knotted together.

That made him scoff.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's not what happened?"

"That's easier said than done," he pointed out.

She squinted at him. "You don't think I could."

There was another incredulous sound followed by a slow shake of his head.

She took a sharp breath, trying to step back from the growing back-and-forth. "You really don't want to make that a challenge."

He was still looking down at his hand, now entwined in the tie. It might as well have been a bundle of nerves for how it gnawed at her. She found herself checking behind them; the kid could still be heard busily rummaging around upstairs, the backroom wide open and free.

She leaned forward. "This doesn't work," she pointed out, waving a finger up and down his armor. "Cuz this," she added with a flick of her finger against his breastplate, "does nothing for me."

He looked up at that, giving her a disapproving tilt of his head at that little half-truth.

She bit her nail again, half wondering if he could actually keep her from eventually crossing a line.

But that wasn't it either. She sucked in a breath, her tone turning more serious than coy. "And if you start wanting to let me do it?" she asked.

The helmet looked up. There was a longer pause this time, followed by a slow, more resolute shake of his head.

The steely response was a familiar comfort at first, but then that just made her more frustrated. Goddamn shiny Mandalorian, she cursed, the need to aggravate him suddenly growing as a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbled up.

"This one comes off though, doesn't it?" she said pointedly, gesturing at the pauldron on his shoulder, the one she had caught him removing when holding the kid before bed. Not that she was jealous of a baby or anything.

He just stayed stone-faced.

His silence just aggravated her even more. "This one, right here," she continued, reaching up to flick a combative finger at the pauldron in question.

He caught her hand before she even hit metal.

The reaction was quick, like he had been ready and waiting for it. She found her breath coming in faster, standing there, the firm grip holding her at bay,

Her other hand shot up then too, just to see what he could do. He caught that one as well, making it crystal clear that she wasn't removing anything if he didn't want her to.

...and then he released his grip anyway, letting her hand go wherever she wanted.

She chose to tug at the fingers of his glove instead, pulling free one hand, then the other, his bare hand slipping to her waist while the other was finally free to wrap around one strand of the tie. The tie was slipping through the knot when she went for the pauldron, sliding a hand under the metal, detaching it to reveal the shape of his shoulder underneath. Somewhere in the background, both of his hands had pushed through to wrap around her waist, and she felt herself being walked backward to the little room while she explored the hard lines running from his arm to his shoulder.

A firm grip pushed her inside the room, his cold and steely figure turning to close the door behind them...but not before sneaking in one last concerned peek at the cockpit, ever-so-carefully closing the door with a quiet click. She had to bite back a smile, the cracks in the badass demeanor showing through as he tried so hard to be conscientious of the kid.

The minute he turned around, she stepped up to him, pushing his hand away to instead go after the clasps of the heavy belt slung across his chest, finally getting that damn thing out of her way before going for the one at his waist as well. A hand clamped down on hers before she could remove the blaster, a stern finger warning her off so he could remove it himself. The pretense of the little back-and-forths was still there, all the while both occasionally glancing up in the direction of the cockpit, stopping to listen and check for any cries. Somehow working together to keep quiet while the kid was right upstairs felt both mildly inappropriate and incredibly endearing.

Blaster set aside, she wrenched the belt off his shoulder, then carefully set it on the counter as quietly as possible.

"Shh," he insisted.

She immediately protested. "I didn't—"

"Shhhhh," he interrupted her again.

She promptly hit him on the chest at the teasing—which just ended up hurting her own hand.

That got a small laugh out of him.

Sucking on her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him, putting her sights back on the offending breastplate. He immediately shut up when she slipped a hand under the edge, her thumb running along one clasp before she released it with a satisfying click.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reminded herself that this was a terrible idea. For the last few days, she'd fallen into one fantasy to another, and in no instance did she find herself picturing the helmet. It felt disrespectful. That was his face, always would be. _No, it's not_ , another little voice immediately protested...but then neither was the vague sketch she had been imagining either.

And now she could see him watching her as she removed the breastplate, and then the other pauldron, dropping the armor, then the cloak. He remained still like he was trying out the idea of trusting her with it. She had thought she would have missed being able to kiss, that it would have felt awkward and distant without it, but instead, it just made everything feel more deliberate, every sigh and hitch in the breath more pronounced in the quiet of the cramped little room.

And then the last plate of armor was removed, leaving just layers of fabric below the helmet. If she looked down, she could almost pretend that it wasn't there, focusing instead on how she could make out his shape under the fabric, still just a man underneath, nothing so inhuman.  
Stepping up, she slid her hands under the thick, boxy overshirt, the padded fabric tight against the back of her hands. The material underneath was thinner, and she could feel the flat of his stomach, how his chest moved when he let out a slow exhale.

It wasn't breaking any rules, wasn't even toeing the line, but somehow it still felt forbidden, or maybe just intimate, maybe that was just how it was supposed to feel.

He saw her growing more impatient, pulling her hands out to instead undo the fastening at the back of his neck, pulling the overshirt away to get to the thinner layer underneath. He slid his hands back to her waist, gliding down across her stomach, then slipping down to the inside of her thigh, occasionally grazing between her legs as she continued to peel away the layers of fabric.

Overshirt thrown aside, she was working at the fastenings at his throat, occasionally letting out a sigh while she felt him exploring different ways to touch her.

Finally, the shirt opened up to reach his bare skin underneath, the firm lines of his chest and neck visible. He was so pale. It didn't seem fair. He should be able to sit in the sun, but it was so hard with no community, no one there to watch your back. She had no idea how he did this all alone.

His hand was passing over her again, and she made a small noise when it became more focused. He stayed there then, remaining remarkably consistent, eventually circling in closer as each of her exhales picked up more sound behind them. She was starting to strain under him, grasping at him as everything grew more persistent.

"Shh," he suddenly urged—in earnest this time, the last gasp a little too loud.

 _Fair_ , she thought, swallowing a breath and trying to gather herself.

Her hand was on his shoulder, apparently having been digging into it this entire time. She could see that even he had been breathing fast, trying to catch his breath now as they broke for the moment.

She watched his chest as it quickly rose and fell, his throat stiffening as he swallowed. She leaned in to kiss him there, placing her lips above his collarbone, then the firm lines angling up his neck. She could feel his hand stiffen against her, feet shifting to orient himself. He made his own noise when she added more pressure, his hand becoming needier against her, dropping his arm to let his fingers slip inside her. It seemed more for him than for her, but it felt right at that moment, what she needed more of now, the stroking of hand no longer enough.

Things suddenly felt like they had come to a head. She went for the tie at his waist while he helped her step out of her bottom layers, hands pushing past each side of her shirt, a groan escaping her when he pushed against her while pulling her in.

Suddenly he pulled away, swallowing. "Wait."

"What—" she protested, flustered and face flushed. She wasn't doing anything wrong this time.

He held back, and it took her a minute to realize that he was listening for the kid.

She paused then too, listening, hands on his shoulder, already tangled up with him and half pressed against the cot.

"He's fine," she finally determined. "He's still where he was."

"How—" he asked.

She shook her head, then started nodding as well, "I can tell; he's fine," she assured him.  
That seemed good enough for him. Centering back towards her, he stopped to pause for a moment, seemingly considering her or checking in with her.

A small smile slipped out of her when she looked back at him.

That was enough. There was a sigh, then hands back to a flurry, hoisting her up higher against the bed while she reached down for him, guiding him inside, legs wrapping around him.

And he felt so good, every inch by inch, torturing them both with the slowness of it at first, his hand adjusting against the cot to control the restraint. She was already tightly wound, and this just…

Her fingers curled on his shoulder, suddenly both on the cot, savoring it. It wasn't until he pulled her hand away that she realized she had slipped it to his neck.

God, she wanted to kiss him; it was hard not to fall back on that.

She found herself doing it again, this time the tips of her fingers sliding up under the helmet.

"Stop it," he chided her with an exaggerated growl, taking her hands to more forcefully pin them above her head and against the frame of the cot.

She choked out a laugh, which was immediately cut off when he pulled her in tighter.

The laughing stopped. No more teasing or little back-and-forths, just focused on how they were coiling tighter against each other. That feeling taking over everything else, breath growing less restrained until she was grasping at him again. He didn't seem to care anymore, pace quickening as things kept ratcheting up.

At that point, she just needed release, doing anything to gain more leverage, hands to his back, then the frame of cot, grasping until the rush came over her and everything opened up, his hand slipping over her mouth to give her something to help muffle the sound. It quickly shifted to clutch a handful of her hair, then the frame of the cot as he followed after.

He sank to the floor afterward, used to giving someone room from the press of the armor. One hand lazily reached up from his place on the floor to latch around her ankle left hanging off the bed. She attempted to say something, point out he could have stayed there, but whatever came out didn't sound intelligible. Instead, she gave up and just laid there for a while longer.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that she had somewhere to be. It was getting late, and she finally made herself get up.

"I need to get going," she murmured, wobbling a bit as she hopped down. He was still leaning back against the wall of the cot while she redid the tie on her tunic. She watched him as he lazily picked up his rifle to tune the scope and listen for the kid.

"Nice baby monitor," she quipped.

He gave a soft laugh while trying to listen.

She nodded her head towards the cockpit. "What's he doing up there?"

"No idea," he admitted, "but he's still alive, and the ship's not about to take off, so I think we're good." He let the rifle fall back to the floor, instead rolling his head over to watch her bare feet as she looked around the room for the rest of her clothes.

She stopped next to him, finger to her lips when she tried to figure out where her pants had gone, his hand starting to absent-mindedly run along her foot.

She looked down when his hand ran up her calf, thumb grazing a scar.

"What?" she huffed playfully.

He didn't say anything, instead just pressing two fingers into the back of her knee, causing it to buckle slightly.

With a short laugh, she indulged him by dropping down to straddle his lap. The features of his neck and chest were still visible below the helmet. Feigning an exasperated sigh, she straightened the disheveled fabric at his collar, then pulled it aside to slip a hand carefully around, sliding up underneath his helmet. She watched as he remained still, only the line of his collarbone visibly rising and falling. She continued exploring and testing the limits, kissing a spot here, reaching up under the helmet to curl a finger around a lock of hair there. When he started to clutch at her hip, she reached her other hand down for him, bracing herself as she took him in.

She could feel him react every time she moved a finger along his neck or lowered herself back down onto him. Every reaction just spurred her on. She made a noise, sitting back briefly to try and break herself of the momentum, ready to take a hand back to regain some self-control. But instead, he stopped her, sitting up to hold her tight against him with one hand and taking the other to move her hand even higher under the helmet, allowing her thumb to just trace along the underside of his jawline. Keeping her there, his lower hand slipped around, taking a thumb to press hard against her.

She made a noise, swallowing, "what are you doing..." she exhaled.

His hand protectively kept her under the helmet right there but no farther, holding it firm while her fingers started to grasp and curl underneath, his other hand continuing to goad her. She made another noise, her free hand trying in vain to dig her nails into his back. She clung to him as his other hand relentlessly pressed against her, clutching at him when it finally passed through her.

She ended up sprawled on top of him, head resting on his torso as he awkwardly leaned back against the wall. They laid there for a while; the fog eventually starting to lift as it turned instead into a comfortable quiet. Some strands of hair were awkwardly tucked around her face; his hand reached up to brush it away...but then seemed to decide that wasn't a very proper gesture and dropped his hand instead. That made her tilt her head up to study him for a moment, as if contemplating something, but she didn't really have anything to say.

Instead, she rolled up, sitting between his legs and spinning her legs around to sit across his lap while he propped up one knee for her to lean against. His other hand draped across her ankle now at his side.

They were both quiet for a bit. It suddenly seemed like a lot of pretext just to get to this point.  
"Do you actually trust Greef about his contact?" she asked.

He shrugged, head still lazily leaning against the wall. "Not really, but more than I used to."

She looked in the direction of the cockpit. "Are you taking him with you?"

He nodded.

"I'm worried about him," she said. "He was really anxious this morning."

"Doing what I can," he offered.

There was a pause; then she looked up at him.

"Tell me what color your hair is."

A soft laugh escaped him. "No."

"Fine," she rolled off of him. "I'll give you some privacy. I have to go anyway." Tying her tunic again, she glanced around, looking a bit lost. He casually reached behind him and grabbed her pants from the cot, tossing them to her.

She gave him a look as she caught them. Pulling them on, she came back over one last time and squatted down next to him.

"Tell me," she asked again, slipping one hand back to the nape of his neck to reach a lock of hair. "That's not against the rules."

He angled his head back, letting it fall into her hand, then gave a slow shake of his head.

She scoffed in fake disgust, playfully knocking his head as she stood back up.

"Just so shiny," she muttered to herself as she opened the door to leave.

"Meet at the market," he called out after her.

"Yeah, yeah, I was listening."

As she cleaned up, the unsettled feeling came sooner than normal. She sighed, letting the water run over her. After all this time, she would have thought she would have grown out of this ambivalence. She let the imagined faces pass, trying not to let herself get caught up in a guessing game. The uneasy feeling still pecked at her gut when she packed up to finally head out.

When she was gone, Din finally went up to check on the kid. He had been quiet for a while.

When he stepped into the cockpit, he didn't see him at first. Bending down, he finally found the little pile of armor tucked underneath the dash. One eye peered out from a little fort of beskar. Din squatted down next to it.

"Is this what you have been doing this whole time?" he asked, lifting one plate to find the kid underneath.

The child hesitantly ventured out. He looked up at him with his big dark eyes.

"What's wrong?" Din asked, then frowned, reaching to pick him up. "Why are you shaking?"


	18. Chapter 17

Din tried again to get the kid to settle down, twisting an arm awkwardly to slip the ball into the satchel on his back. His escort glanced at him curiously, but the young soldier was trying too hard to act professionally to say anything. There had been a brief moment when the boy had slipped up, chuckling when Mando mistook him for Greef's contact. The kid seemed tickled by that idea but shook his head and told Mando to follow. 

Now they stood silently waiting for some kind of train on a crowded platform; Mando sticking out like a sore thumb amongst a flock of freshly uniformed New Republic recruits. 

He shifted his weight while they waited. A fold of fabric was brushing noticeably against his throat, and he had to hold back the urge to tug at it. 

He was supposed to be focused, but his mind kept drifting somewhere between anxiety and fantasy. Something about restraints, removing pieces of armor one-by-one until nothing but his helmet remained. The image of her enveloping them both in a warm blanket before the cold air could get in, hands wrapped around his throat. He had the pin in his grasp, confident in his ability to stop her in time. But then her hands slipped inside, the pin dropping from his hand. 

His escort had to nudge him again before he realized the train had arrived. Mando's jaw tightened; he couldn't be this distracted right now. 

They had to cram their way onto the flatbed with the rest of the flock. Someone bumped into the satchel, resulting in a small squeak. With a flat stare at the offending soldier, he took off the bag and set it protectively between his feet, trying to move against the wall and away from the crowd.

They had to wait for the car to load. He imagined a hand running through his hair.

The gate to the platform closed as everyone settled in. A thumb brushing across his lips. 

The car finally lurched forward. Bounced back to reality, he looked down to check on the kid. 

The bag was empty. 

He spun around. Shoving past the men next to him, Din looked up just in time to see the kid still on the platform—and the look on his little face just as he realized he had been left behind. The kid must have been trying to crawl up closer to him and hadn't realized the gate was separate from the car. 

Mando reeled on his escort.

"Stop the car."

The young soldier stammered something. 

Cursing, Mando shoved his way to the edge of the car. He looked down at the ground, speeding too fast below. A light flashed in the corner of his eye, and he looked up. Another car was coming towards them on the opposite track. Climbing up the railing, he waited, then vaulted over the side just as the opposite car passed. The soldiers on the new car scattered in surprise when his boots hit the floor, and he immediately stormed to the front.

He could see the platform coming back into view. Searching the crowd, he locked onto the kid just beyond the platform railing. Din breathed a sigh of relief; the kid was fine for now. From his place on the car, he could at least keep an eye on him until he reached the platform.

As they moved closer, though, the expression on the little guy's face became clearer. Din's heart sank. There was a sheer look of panic in the kid's eyes as he paced back and forth behind the gate. He kept trying to climb up and over but was too little and nowhere close to making it. Din realized the kid couldn't see him, and, as far as the kid knew, he was just gone. 

The car was taking an excruciatingly long time to reach the platform. He had to stand there and watch while the little guy panicked. Someone's boot bumped into the kid, causing him to jump back in surprise. His little face turned up to the crowd of passing legs, and he took a few eager steps towards one pair of boots and cloak, only to realize that it was just another stranger. The kid looked utterly lost then, taking a few steps backward to stand in the middle of the crowd, uncertain of what to do. 

The train hadn't yet come to a stop when Din launched over the gate to rush over to him. 

"Hey," he said as he bent to scoop him up. "I'm right here." 

The kid jumped at first, then looked up to see him and immediately buried his head against him. 

He walked them to a quiet corner and sank against the wall to just sit with him for a few minutes. The kid seemed to be trying to find a gap to burrow himself under his armor, but his shaking was at least slowing. 

Din leaned his head against the wall and sighed, realizing how distracted he'd been. Once the kid seemed calm again, Din reached down to his belt and took out a fob, the kid looking up finally to watch him. Din pinned the fob to the inside of the kid's oversized coat. 

"So I don't lose you again," he explained with an extra straightening of the kid's collar.

The kid tipped his chin down to look at the device, then looked back up at him. 

"What are we going to do, kid?" he asked with a sigh.

The kid reached over to pluck off another tracking fob from Din's belt, insistently pressed it against Din's chest, then looked up at him expectantly.

Taking the offered fob in his hand, Din stared at it, then swallowed.

The escort suddenly came running up, huffing and puffing after finally catching up to them. Din and the kid both turned to look at him. 

"Sir, please," the boy finally managed to get out between breaths, "if you could both just stay on the train…"

\-----

They were led through an impressive amount of security to an official-looking office. A confident-looking man finally strode in to meet them.

"So what exactly can I do for a Mandalorian?" he asked, then cocked his head at the kid peering out from the satchel now hanging from Mando's chest "...and his charge," he added with a quizzical look.

"You're the base commander," Mando said in realization. _Greef's contact was the goddamn base commander._ He clearly had misjudged Greef's level of connections.

The man nodded.

"Greef said you could help us track any local imperial activity."

"You mean Gideon?"

Mando tried to hide his surprise. "...Yes."

"We're already on it. We know he's been poking around. We've been attempting to intercept any messages since Greef reached out. If you can wait here, I can let you know if there are any updates."

The two of them sat there in a quiet corner and waited; Din's hand slipped through the opening of the satchel, where the kid clung to one gloved finger. 

He glanced down at the kid buried in the bag. _Do you really think he wouldn't care if there was someone else under your helmet?_

There was a flurry of activity as a radio operator called over the base commander. They were both listening to a headpiece when the commander glanced up at Mando, raising a hand to gesture him over. 

The commander pulled the cord to let the sound play through the speakers. Gideon's voice filled the room. 

"... will be rewarded. And you can trust that bringing him directly to me is far better than the alternative that awaits you all."

Mando stood stock still as he listened to the now familiar voice. Something was different this time; behind the professional tenor was a hint of anxiety in Gideon's voice.

The base commander looked over at Mando. "Sounds like he already knows you're here." He gestured to the door. "Go back to your ship. One Imperial hold over is no match for what we have built here. I will send a few men along to hold off anyone tempted by a bounty."

Mando ground his teeth and tightened his hold on the satchel. "Thank you. Consider whatever debt you owed Greef to be paid."

The base commander chuckled. "You tell him the debt is never paid for an old friend."

Mando paused, then nodded before rushing out to find Neera and get back to the ship.


	19. Chapter 18

Neera waited while Nix got some drinks. Judging from the empty glasses on the table, he was already a few rounds in. That was admittedly on her for keeping him waiting so long. _Could have kept him waiting even longer_ , she thought ruefully...though she should probably stop reveling in the fantasy that a firm grip on her hands would ever be enough. _Maybe you should stop purposefully aggravating him when you really just needed a hug_.

She would have preferred to just sit with the images of continuing uninterrupted that morning. Instead, she found her attention glued to the door, anxiously eyeing anyone coming in and out of the cantina. Too many people, too many well-connected eyes, and the walls of this domed military base made her feel like they were literally being closed in on. They should just get the information and go. This wasn't their community; they were better off on their own when they could keep moving.

She intermittently glanced at the crowd while needling the edge of Nix's knife into the tabletop, attempting to etch what she could remember of the mythosaur symbol. She glanced at it again. The tusks just weren't quite right. 

A hulk of a man walked by; he gave her a challenging stare when he caught her studying him.

Sighing, she looked away. It made her think of Paz, lying on the ground in his proud new armor, about to have the life choked out of him, their father pushing her onto a ship and demanding that she leave. Would they all really have preferred if she had done nothing? Done the proper, 'noble' thing?

Nix came back, his mechanics uniform a little too free of any oil stains or smudges. She pretended to keep her attention on her etching, knowing it would piss him off.

He cocked his head to look at it, then gave a cynical snort, spinning his pilfered knife from her hand and stabbing it right between the mythosaur's eyes before setting her drink down in front of her.

The drink was the last thing she wanted right now, but she knew it would help loosen up his tongue.

"So," she started, "what are your ins and outs of this place?"

Nix glanced warily at someone passing by their table and shot her a warning look.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said unconvincingly from behind his cup.

"Come on; this place can't be as buttoned-up as it looks. I've already walked by multiple black market bottles of liquor. There's no way you haven't already gotten bored with playing the mechanic."

He followed her gaze at a man in the corner, drinking from an unconvincingly relabeled bottle. Proving her point, the man responded with a familiar nod towards Nix.

He sighed, then relented and shifted his chair in closer. "Did you know they built this place around the ruins of an older fort? There are a few old entrances that they left in disrepair, never a priority since they run along the natural defense of the chasm outside. There's one entrance where the bridge across the chasm is still barely intact, or at least enough for a few people to cross. The old bay doors for ships no longer work, but there's still a personnel door on the side with a manual crank."

"Why haven't they fixed it?"

He shrugged. "Lack of funds. They may not like to admit it, but the New Republic is barely scraping by. They say they have banned trade with Imperial remnants, but, honestly, they still need the black market to keep everyone happy."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You're trading with Imperial holdouts?"

He shot a look at her judgmental tone. "As if one group is any worse than the other." But then he couldn't help dishing on the Empire. "The Empire may be quiet, but it's not gone, just biding its time until the New Republic falls into bickering and bureaucracy. The base leaders may feel confident, but the Empire could take this place anytime they want to. It's just waiting for something."

"Waiting for what?"

He didn't respond.

She hesitated. "Have you overhead any talk about the Jedi?"

That struck a nerve. "Not the Jedi…," he said carefully. Seeming to want to change the subject, he instead kicked her satchel under the table.

"Surprised you're still carrying that thing around with you."

"It makes a handy shield in a pinch," she countered with a biting tone.

Nix had been in the Creed: a foundling she vaguely knew from her youth whose helmet was removed through no fault of his own. He had been alone afterward. Helmet ripped off in a fight, left to gather himself up, and process that completely alone. He was already jaded with the Creed at that point, but still...

They had bonded over it for a time. Knowing his history, he had every right to be bitter, but that seemed to be all he was now—corroded down to nothing but a brittle shell.

He scooched his chair in closer. "I heard you arrived with a full-armored Mando."

"Yeah, well, he came with some convenient connections," she deflected.

"Are you going to make me ask if he was Deathwatch?"

She didn't like his tone and ignored the question.

He leaned in closer; she realized she might have overshot the plan to loosen his tongue. "Thought you had better taste than that now that you've had the alternative."

She daintily plucked off one wandering hand. "What I didn't like was the easy excuse to be an emotionless, distant asshole. Though I suppose some are skilled enough to pull that off even without the armor," she countered.

He laughed. "Why don't you come back with me, and I'll kiss you wherever you like."

She groaned; that offer was definitely not what she needed right now. 

"What did you mean by 'not the Jedi,'" she tried again.

Nix wasn't listening anymore. He was looking past her. She turned to follow his gaze and saw Din walking through the door, silver armor sticking out amongst the brown and grey uniforms. He spotted her, hesitated when he eyed Nix next to her, then gestured for her to come over.

"...shit," she murmured under her breath. She stood up and immediately turned to Nix. "Don't," she warned with one accusatory finger. He was already staring intently at the sight of a Mandalorian in the room.

She quickly walked over to Din, one furtive glance back to see Nix already starting to grow restless in his seat. He was looking down at her when she reached him, and she quickly placed one hand on his arm to lead them farther from the table, the shape of his arm noticeable under her hand. 

She wavered between asking why the hell he had come here and taking any opportunity to read his thinking since that morning.

"Hi," she got out instead.

He started to lean in, then stood back to wait for someone within earshot to pass. He seemed to be playing with how close to stand to her. She could see the kid peeking at her through the gap in his pack. Finally, he edged in close to her ear.

"Gideon knows we're here," he said in a lowered voice. Her eyes immediately flicked up at him. _Is that what had been gnawing at her?_

He looked back at the crowd and added, "He's offering a bounty to anyone on base that brings him the kid." 

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. This just confirmed it; they needed to go, now.

They were interrupted by a long whistle behind them.

"That is some shiny armor," Nix's restraint must have finally broken. He was sauntering over to them while looking the armor up and down. He gestured his chin up to Mando. "How old are you?" he asked.

Neera steeled herself while Mando just ignored him. "We should go," she said quickly, a hand to his arm to guide them both outside.

"Were you in Deathwatch?" Nix carried on. "She wouldn't tell me," he added with an accusatory look at Neera. She glared back at him, vaguely wondering if she could grab a bottle from the table next to them to chuck it at him and shut him up. "Just tell me, were you there before or after the days of orphaning kids just to add to the collection of child soldiers?"

Mando looked at the man for a beat, then decided it wasn't worth his time and turned back to Neera to go. The look on her face made him stop; it was a look of pure shame.

He looked back at Nix. "What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Nix sounded genuinely surprised. He looked pointedly at Neera. "She does...knows all about it. Can't come from a prominent family in Deathwatch and not know." He turned back to Mando with some sort of misanthropic sympathy or even pity. "Let me guess, you were a foundling 'rescued' from an army of droids." He gave a cynical laugh. "Always droids. Guess Deathwatch couldn't convince anyone else to attack villages just to be killed when the noble Mandalorians swooped in to be the heroes."

He kept his eyes on Neera while still speaking to Mando. "And yet she hasn't mentioned it to you? Funny. She talks about it all the time. That and the damn darksaber. As if a sword is going to swipe away that past." Nix turned and squinted at him, curious. "So, what exactly does she want from you to make her hold her tongue?"

The flat armored face just stared at him impassively. Then Mando turned and walked back out the door.

Neera turned to curse Nix. He was watching her with a piqued smile.

"What exactly are you up to?" he teased.

She stared daggers at him, sucking in a breath before turning to try and catch up with Din.


	20. Chapter 19

He could feel her behind him the whole way to the ship, the growing indignation and confusion all pushed back towards her while he worked to keep a calm front for the kid. _You knew this whole time,_ he thought bitterly.

It was all becoming directed at her...or shared with her; it wasn't clear which. 

He couldn't let the kid see any of it. He couldn't disappear for a few days and take it out on some deserving bounty. All he could do was sit tight in his now crowded ship and provide a calm, reassuring presence for the kid. _It was never some damned droids._ Closing the ship door behind them made him immediately feel like a caged animal. There had to be some way to vent, some help absorbing this before it ricocheted around the cabin. What else was he supposed to do, talk about it?

One foot in front of the other, he calmly walked the kid up to the quiet of the cockpit. He alternated between thoughts of lashing out at her as the nearest Mandalorian...and dropping below to immediately pull her into the back room with him. Letting her go wherever she wanted, not thinking about any of it. _They planned for them to die._ Her hands in his hair, offering commiserations on how hard these sacrifices could be.

The realization that he couldn't even have that relief safely while so tempted just made him more frustrated. 

He tucked the kid into his pram. When he went to gently pull away, one little hand still clung desperately to his gloved finger.

He tried to gently unfurl the kid's hand in as an assuring way as possible. The kid would not let go. A rising tension threatened to bubble over as he instead had to forcibly pry the kid's fingers away. _Five minutes_ , he thought, _I just need five minutes to think._

When he finally dropped below, Neera was, of course, still looking to him for any sliver of a reaction. He glanced over at her. The tie of her tunic was crooked; there was a memory of it entwined around his fingers, her hands sliding through his hair. 

He watched the thoughts pass and moved to pull some weapons off the wall instead; that, at least, was safe to do. 

"Din…" Neera started cautiously, pulling on his name again. What kind of big emotional response was she hoping for? That wasn't their way. She was the one person who should understand all of this. _No. Their way is cold, stoic violence. Why did any of this surprise him?_

"Is it true?" The question came out calm while he methodically lay out one or two items onto the table.

"You said you didn't want to know—" she countered.

His hand came down on the table. "IS IT TRUE?!"

"YES!" she shouted, working to match his tone best she could. "Yes! It's true. Why do you think your father left?" She sounded used to being frustrated by it all already. "There weren't enough attacks to justify their politics, so they made up their own. People took foundlings out of guilt, and it was encouraged because it bolstered their numbers with new loyal recruits. Your father was smart enough to leave before things got really bad."

"You knew," he accused her.

"Yes," she said, exasperated. "Everyone who wasn't blind knew. Hell, they sent in the same droids we used for training. Those who didn't care about the politics thought of it as target practice," she added with a bitter sigh, sitting down to rub her temples.

"And you just stood by," he added spitefully. _Too angry._

Her head came out from behind her hands. "I was a kid! What did you want me to do, assassinate Pre Vizsla? My own uncle?" She just shook her head again. "There were plenty of people against it, but their own families would have been struck down if they spoke out or showed 'weak' resolve."

"No, you just let other people's families be killed," he added dryly. "And this is what you want to go back to?" _Did they all just sit and wait while the droids marched through the town?_ He didn't need the Mandalorian drama right now; he just needed to focus on the kid.

"There's nothing better out there, I've looked. Nothing else fits," she said adamantly. "That was one bad span of time; it doesn't have to stay that way." 

She punctuated the thought with a pointed finger on the table. "Look, I am happy to help you hash this out any other time, but we don't have time to talk about this right now; we need to go."

"Why?" The question still came out curt. She looked briefly confused. "Gideon, whomever else… They know we're here. We need to get out of here now."

"We have an entire military base on our side. Why would we leave? Where else could we possibly be safer?" he asked. _How many did they let die before swooping in to be the heroes?_

Her hand gestured up in frustration to the kid in the cockpit. "Can't you see how anxious he is? Can't you feel it? Have you ever seen him like that? Something worse is coming; we need to go."

That made him pause, the kid's panicked eyes fresh in his mind. He shook his head. "If the kid can sense danger, then he's just sensing Gideon." That sliver of doubt remained, though. _So why had Gideon sounded anxious?_

Neera shook her head. "It can't just be because of Gideon. I've been near Gideon; it didn't feel like this. Was he this scared the last time you faced Gideon?"

A memory popped in his head of the kid happily waving at Greef while Gideon bore down on them.

She was already up, pacing; her energy taking up every inch of space. "We could still get one ship out; it's possible he won't see us."

"No," he snapped. Her anxious energy was driving him nuts. When had his ship gotten so crowded? He already had a plan. If she was going to say that wasn't good enough, then she had better be offering something better.

Her face suddenly lit up with some epiphany.

"We can get Gideon alone, take him out, then go. I would just need to offer up the kid in exchange for the darksaber." She looked up at him expectantly, as if that was the solution that solved everything.

He stared at her for a beat.

"Get out," he demanded.

The hopeful expression on her face dropped. She looked to the side, started shaking her head, jaw set. "I'm not leaving," She shook her head vehemently then looked back up at him. "There's no way I'm leaving."

He just walked away. Instead of finally giving him space, she kept hounding him. 

"You can't stay here," she repeated. "We need to go. Now. We're running out of time."

He just kept trying to walk away, find one quiet corner where he could breathe. Give him some space; let him keep a safe distance before he did something stupid. _Sek had lost his own son. Had he purposefully waited just long enough?_

"You just want the darksaber," he muttered.

"That's what Gideon will think!" she exclaimed. "That's why he'll buy it."

He scoffed. "Right," his tone sarcastic. "And then what." _Did he wait just long enough that his parents were struck down, sit and wait just long enough for there to be a child available?_

A resigned, sad smile played on her lips. "We just strangle him," she offered with a sober shrug.

He stopped. "Do you really think I'm going to let you use him to kill Gideon?"

"No. That's not what I meant," she tried to explain, struggling to get her point across. "I'll do it—"

"Sure, you go ahead and single-handedly 'take out' Gideon," he said, pointing to the door. "...just leave us out of it."

He picked up her satchel, taking it to the door just for something to do. One hand slammed the control panel to open the door and encourage her to go on and do whatever she wanted to Gideon.

"I told you he's not a weapon," he added. "You're not using him to strangle Gideon."

"You're not listening," she said slowly. " _I_ will do it," she repeated, trying to emphasize something while looking at him intently. "I just need the kid to draw Gideon out, get him alone."

He kept his head turned in the direction of the door, trying to hold it together while the claustrophobic feeling cranked another notch tighter. She stood there at a loss, realizing he wasn't listening.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she restarted.

_It had been such serendipitous timing that he was ever saved...sat there and waited until they were struck down—his 'savior.' Then just flew away with his bounty while the rest of the town was slaughtered._

"I've known where Gideon and the darksaber were this whole time," she added. "I didn't need you two anymore. Why do you think I'm still here? To spend my days' juggling' with a strange little baby? Our 'enemy'?"

She was still talking; he just needed some space to think. He went to turn away from the door, but she immediately blocked his path.

"...Or maybe because you think I can't resist going back to fucking men buried under some cold and distant armor."

 _Was she trying to aggravate him?_ He couldn't handle her poking and prodding right now. _What did she even want from him?_

"Why have I been insisting on tagging along? Why was I ever kicked out?" she demanded again.

She wasn't making any sense...just made everything too complicated. He just needed her to stop talking for once. Five minutes to think. Just some space... He just needed a second to breathe.

Instead, she kept talking.

"Come on, Din. Why was I ever forced to leave?" her voice was suddenly softer, more patient, looking at him intently.

"I dunno," he responded from where she had cornered him against the wall. "...maybe they got sick of your constant mocking scorn—a group desperate enough to steal children didn't want you around." He leaned his head back against the wall, suddenly tired. "Just... take the hint, Neera. Nobody is going to care about your damn sword."

That finally shut her up; he could feel its effectiveness in his gut.

When she finally spoke again, her voice came out strained.

"I'm sorry you found out this way, I am...but you can't. stay. here," she emphasized.

He didn't say anything, just swallowed and clamped quiet. She paused, looking desperate for another minute. She looked past him at something, thinking. Finally, she spoke again, projecting her words loudly and carefully to the room.

"That kid, he will lose you if you stay here. I just need the kid to come with me so you can stay safe," she announced carefully.

He didn't respond, couldn't speak.

She saw he wasn't going to give her any more of a response, picked up her satchel, and left.

Finally alone, he walked slowly to the privacy of the back room, quietly closed the door, then ripped off the helmet to send it scuttling on the floor. It spun, wobbling, before landing at an awkward angle to stare back at him cockeyed.

He must have been sitting there for more than an hour, simply staring at the wall. It was already getting dark by the time he sat forward to rub his face in his hands.

 _They killed them._ You won't be able to keep him as safe without it. _They killed your parents_. The entire covert helped you and died for it. _They killed kids' parents to steal them away._ You might still need their support. _How long have you hated droids for?_ Suck it up. _They made you feel like you had to 'earn' your way in as a young kid._ You'll need their help. _You're keeping a cold face for the kid all for a group that killed your parents._ Get over it. _You fault her for wanting to go back when you keep it on._ Get over it.

He angled his head to glance towards the cockpit, where the kid was safely tucked inside.

Finally, he got up and walked to the door to the cockpit.

A finger tapped on the helmet, still hanging in his hand while he hovered over the door handle.

He swallowed, then put his helmet back on and opened the door.

The kid was gone.

He grabbed the tracking fob and ran.

\----------------------------

"Try him again," she told Nix.

"Fine...but he's not going to meet anyone without proof that they have the kid."

She shook her head. "You told him who I was? He must have been keeping tabs on us if he knows we're here. He probably knows I was with them both."

Nix gave her a patient look. "I'll try again."

Same mistakes, same outcomes. What had her father always called her? Impertinent? Pain in the ass had been the other term for it. Why had she thought she had changed enough that some sword would fix everything.

 _They're happy with their distance; just let them be_. She would just have to continue being a pain in the ass from afar, but she was going to be there this time around.

She realized her leg was anxiously tapping; she stilled it in an attempt to maintain her composure, swallowing the uneasy sickness in the back of her throat.

"I'm taking your landspeeder," she told Nix. "This is partially your fault for opening your mouth earlier."

"He deserved to know," he said defensively.

"Timing, Nix, just...goddamn timing. When have you ever known me to sugar-coat Mandalorian culture? He's trying to keep a foundling safe from Gideon; this was the worst possible moment to have the very idea of foundlings pulled from under him.

Nix paused. "Well, I did not know that," he added.

"Probably because I didn't tell you," she sighed. "I don't know why we're all still keeping each other in the dark; I know perfectly well that you would help another foundling."

He was quiet for a moment. "Gideon led the Purge. You had better take him out."

She eyed his somber expression. "Working on it," she nodded. "But I'm more worried about who else is working with him. Something is going on with the Jedi or those other Force users. What did we use to call them in class? The Shits?"

A smile almost peeked through. "The Sith," he corrected her. "And you should really hope they're not involved in this."

She thought for a moment. "Do you have any connections with the base command? Some way to get them to boost security?"

He shrugged. "Not really, but I can fake a bomb threat or some other terrorist activity."

She nodded. "Do it." 

There was a small sound behind them, and they both turned in response.

Neera looked down to see the source of the sound. She gave a relieved little smile, walked over, and bent down.

The kid tottered out of the shadows to walk up to them both, a plate of armor tucked inside his oversized coat.

"So you _were_ listening back there," Neera said in relief. "You ready for this?" she asked patiently.

The kid seemed to steel himself, then purposefully looked up at her with a brave little expression.


	21. Chapter 20

The tracking fob led him to some forgotten section at the edge of the base; a landspeeder sat empty by a small door to the exterior.

Mando crept to the door to peer into the night outside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust. There was a sense of emptiness in the landscape outside, a chasm spilling out beneath an old bridge.

He could just make out two figures in the darkness. Pulling around his rifle, he tuned the sensor to pick up any conversation. Neera's voice came through.

"—over there," she demanded, her voice on edge. He could see her gesturing to the other side of the bridge.

Gideon's voice answered back.

"You can be assured that I have no interest in deceit. You can have your ancestral sword; I only want the child," he assured her, taking a few careful steps to the side of the bridge. "Where is the Mandalorian?" he added.

"At his ship and unaware, so we had better hurry this up," Neera answered quickly.

Mando quietly crept through the door, attempting to stay in the shadows of the wall.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "That is quite the betrayal."

"He has a soft spot for foundlings, but he has no idea how dangerous someone with these powers can be," she explained. The kid was in her arms as she walked cautiously to the opposite side of the bridge.

"And you do?" he asked.

"Personal experience," she remarked dryly.

Gideon bent down to set some sort of metal cylinder on the bridge. "Neera Vizsla. Strange, the Mandalorians kept surprisingly detailed records, but yours just ended. Not a word as to why you left."

"Yeah, well, it was embarrassing for everyone involved, so I'm not surprised." She set down the kid, following the little guy's wide eyes when she noticed him staring fixedly at the horizon. There was a light growing in the distance. "Any more curious questions, or can we hurry this along?" she urged.

Gideon seemed to follow her gaze, catching the same sight. "Yes," he agreed, a rush to his voice. "I only want the Child," he repeated as he walked back to the center to continue the trade.

There was that same anxiety in his voice. Neera paused. "You're scared," she realized. "Who is it?" she added, suddenly distracted from the swap. "Who wants him?"

Gideon tore his eyes from the horizon to give her an aggravated look. "You'll find out soon enough if you keep delaying this. I don't recommend it." His hand reached out in a grasping motion. "I need the Child in hand and am growing impatient."

Neera paused, shrugged, then set down the child to begin walking in a wide berth back to the center.

Mando watched, coiled, as she took those first steps to leave the kid.

Neera was raising her hand when Mando stepped forward, weapon drawn on Gideon. A bit of light reflected off his armor, catching both of their attention.

Neera had just enough time to shout a protest of "No! Wait!" when Gideon raised his blaster in return.

Mando went to fire but instead felt himself thrown back, hitting the floor of the bridge with enough force to leave the old wood cracking underneath. His hand flew to search his armor, but he couldn't find any sign of the blaster hit. Looking up, he saw Gideon also gathering himself from off the ground, equally confused.

Neera was still standing, looking over at Din with a slightly sad, resigned expression. Turning, she walked back towards Gideon, who was rising to his knees to scramble for his strewn blaster.

Before even reaching him, Neera gave a small flick of her hand to send Gideon's blaster scuttling out of his reach.

 _Of course._ Mando thought sarcastically. _Of course, she can do that_. He shook himself and worked to stand, suddenly feeling like the odd man out in a room full of weird sorcerers.

The kid was still sitting there, alone, staring fixedly at the approaching light on the horizon. Din rushed over to swoop him up. Eyeing the door, he paused and looked back over at Neera. She was next to Gideon, casually squatting down with one hand tightening as Gideon clutched his neck. Eyes bulging slightly, Gideon still managed to look back at her with a kind of amused surprise.

She noticed Din looking back at her. "Go!"' she shouted back impatiently.

He turned. Just get him inside.

Before he could take a few steps, a ship buzzed overhead, followed by two more. Three New Republic X-wings were racing past them to something in the distance. He could see more activity at the far end of the bridge, a base platoon rushing to prepare for something. The lights on the horizon were growing larger. Whatever was approaching had the base up in arms.

Neera was still too focused on Gideon to notice any of it. Tightening his hold of the kid, he pivoted back, grabbing her by the shoulder. "Neera, let's go," he urged.

She resisted him at first, focused on Gideon. "Who is it? What is coming?" she demanded again with a tightening of her hand.

Gideon gave a pitiful, strangled laugh. "One of your kind," he croaked out.

Neera looked up, standing when she suddenly noticed the flurry of activity. Her eyes remained fixed on the approaching lights. Din had not seen her this terrified before; she looked frozen in fear.

Din tightened his grip on her arm. "Come on, just leave him; it's not worth it."

She seemed to shake out of it for a moment to meet Din's gaze when one of the X-wings exploded behind them. They both whipped around in surprise. Whatever ships were approaching were now in a full-on assault of the base forces. 

Gideon was watching too, his usually unflappable eyes suddenly widening in fear. "It's too late," he murmured. "He's lost patience." His face suddenly turned angry, "Why couldn't you just give him to me!" he shouted at them both.

He suddenly scrambled for the blaster while Neera was distracted from her grip. Before Din could react, Gideon picked up his strewn blaster, placed it to his temple, and fired.

Neera and Din both jumped back as Gideon's body slumped over.

Din stared at the body and then looked up again at the chaos at the far end of the bridge. A second x-wing had come crashing down. The approaching ships had finally landed, two unleashing a squadron of black-armored stormtroopers. They were cutting through the New Republic men, all those young recruits with crisp uniforms.

A tie fighter landed amidst the ships, one figure coming out to step down into the now raging small battle. It was a dark figure, cloaked, and cut through the chaos with ease to walk towards the start of the bridge. The figure stood alone as it stepped onto the bridge, a slender red line of light suddenly appearing at its side.

Neera and the kid were both staring at the dark figure, completely transfixed.

Din shook her again. "We have to go. NOW," he urged.

She finally seemed to snap out of it, and they both turned to get back to the small door and the safety of the base. Din ran with the kid in his hands and could feel Neera stop to fire a few shots. They were almost at the door; he just needed to get the kid inside, then he could help her.

It reminded him of his own parents, clinging onto him as they desperately ran to find him any kind of safety. They ultimately succeeded, even if they lost their lives in the process; he would do the same. He would not leave the kid all alone, though; that simply could not happen this time. He doggedly kept moving forward, feeling the strength of his armor and Neera at his back.

He was almost at the door, Neera still struggling to hold off the figure behind him. He at the threshold when he felt a hand tightening around his neck. It was choking him, strangling him as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. They just needed to get a bit farther. He was struggling for air, barely making it past the threshold, when he dropped to his knees, guarding the kid as he dropped to the floor.

\----

"Din!" Neera shouted when she saw him go down behind her.

She fired a few more shots at the figure, it's hand still in a strangling grasp, before she turned to rush through the door. The kid was frantically tugging at Din where he lay strewn on the floor, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Neera quickly bent to check on him, seeing at least one or two semi-conscious strained breaths.

She needed to hurry, starting to count to herself to track the time he was out. She rushed back to the door, knocking away the rod keeping it pried open to close and latch it. _Ten seconds._ The heavy door immediately started to fall shut, but then stopped, and slowly began to rise again. Straining with every power she could find, she tried to counter it, but it continued to rise back open. _Twenty seconds_.

She stood there and just watched the figure continue relentlessly approaching. It was just too strong. The blaster shots had been useless; the figure just blocked them with his red saber. She had tried to use whatever power she could to hurl objects at him and knock him off the bridge. Most of them only went a few feet before dropping back to the ground. Nothing was working. The figure just kept coming. With every move she tried, it was like he was just swatting at a pesky fly.

 _Thirty seconds_. She tried to focus, channeling whatever energy she could to swipe away bits of bridge between them. The blanks of the bridge just rattled a little bit but stayed where they were. 

_Fuck it._ She sucked at these powers anyways. Instead, she grabbed Din's rifle and dropped to one knee, firing to create a massive hole in place of one of the pillars on the bridge. She reloaded and fired at the remaining pillar. A huge portion of the bridge fell away between the figure and them, sending planks careening down into the chasm below. The figure made a casual leap across the gap and land on their side, undeterred.

 _Shit_ , Neera cursed. She looked around for any other options. The darksaber was hanging off her belt; she barely knew how to use that, had only touched it once before when she was a kid. _Forty seconds._ She looked around. _Shit_ , she cursed again, the panic rising.

So many times replaying a moment like this in her head, and she still felt utterly unprepared for it.

She had no plan, and the figure was only getting closer, unrelentingly walking towards them in a slow gait. _What kind of asshole just slowly advances on people?_

There was no time. She rushed back to where Din and the child still lay on the floor. She could at least get the kid out of here.

She quickly checked Din's pulse, still there, but weaker. _What was it now? Fifty? Sixty seconds?_ The kid was still frantically tugging at Din, desperately looking for what was wrong, something he could heal.

"Kid, you have to go," Neera urged, glancing up nervously at the figure still on the bridge. "I'll stay with him," she assured him as she tried to pull him towards the landspeeder.

The kid would not let go; he was crying and clutching at Din's armor. Neera was trying to be gentle, but there was no time. She finally had to rip his hands from their grip on the armor.

The kid let out an anguished scream as she tried to carry him away.

Neera suddenly felt herself thrown back, skidding against the floor to slam against the landspeeder with a painful impact. She looked up just in time to see the approaching figure, the bridge, all of it, thrown back by the same force. There was a glimpse of it all careening down into the chasm before the door slammed shut behind them.

The kid had collapsed on top of Din's chest, passed out now that he was where he wanted to be.

Neera scrambled over to them both, quickly checking on the kid, then slipping a hand back to Din's wrist to check the pulse. She couldn't find it this time. _How long had it been? Two minutes? Three?_ She'd lost count. Searching, she tore off his gloves, then his wrist guard, pushing up his sleeve to try and find any signal. There was finally something there, a weak pulse under her fingertips.

She stayed there for a moment, holding his wrist in her hand, not sure what to do. All that counting, that panicked rush to make sure he wasn't out too long, only to realize she couldn't really do anything once she got there. He could just wake up, any moment, on his own, be fine, or...not.

She looked over at the kid, still passed out.

"Come on little man, wake up," she begged him quietly. "You know I can't heal like you can."

The passed out kid just puffed out some breaths in response.

She rubbed a hand on her face, the blank helmet not giving anything back. There was a memory of his hands helping her keep her restraint, keeping her from taking things too far, from not ruining everything for once. And now, here was this pretty, perfect noble warrior's death, so shiny and untarnished.

She looked at his arm in her lap: just a man's arm, a dusting of dark brown hair on the forearm.

She felt the pulse ticking away. 

She rolled out her neck, jaw clamped, willing herself to exercise restraint.

She looked over at the kid again, a certain bitterness rising with each waning beat.

"Too bad," she concluded.

She reached down and took off the helmet.

And then he was right there in front of her; a mop of dark brown hair, a square jaw paired with kind eyes; eyes still closed as he lay there unconscious.

Something between a smile and a sob choked out of her.

Collecting herself, she bent down, listening for any sign of breath. Nothing. Her hands furiously attacked the fabric around his neck and chest, removing everything until her hands could slide along his throat. There was no obvious injury. She tried to focus, using whatever abilities she could muster to encourage some sign of life. There was a faint echo of a heartbeat, but no breath that she could feel.

This wasn't working, she realized. A simple touch wasn't going to magically heal anything; she wasn't the kid.

Instead, she took his face in her hand, turning it upwards, the feeling of stubble on her fingertips. One thumb brushing across his lips, she bent down to force in a breath.

Her hand remained on his neck, trying to feel the air flowing. It seemed blocked, swollen, only a sliver making its way in. She focused, trying to guide it through with each breath.

A wave of relief rushed over her when she felt him suck in a breath on his own. It was a wheezing, strained attempt, and he was still barely conscious. She kept at it until it steadied, still strained, but moving in and out on its own.

He still seemed agitated, still barely conscious, but fitful. She couldn't figure out what was wrong; she could feel the air going in and out fine, but he was grasping for something. She looked over and noticed the kid. Picking him up, she placed the still sleeping child on Din's chest, taking one of his hands to rest on the kid's back.

He seemed aware enough for that to calm him. His breathing came in steady; he seemed barely awake and only half registering what was happening. With the kid safely and comfortably tucked under his chin, he appeared to let himself just be tired, relaxing back down before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Neera pulled a stretcher from the landspeeder and used whatever force she could to move them both onto it without waking them. She dutifully placed the helmet next to him, then stood there, looking at his shiny, formerly untarnished armor.

 _This is why you can't have nice things_ , she thought morosely.

She took an extra moment to get her bearings. The darksaber lay forgotten on the ground. Staring at it for a beat, she bent to pick it up and then placed it at his feet before taking them both back to the ship.


	22. Chapter 21

His hand twitched from where it lay draped across his chest. There was the feeling that something was missing, too much empty air in front of him. 

Vague memories were seeping back in: the bridge, their retreat, the feeling of the kid back against his chest, the knowledge that things were being taken care of. 

The feeling of floating back awake seemed unavoidable at this point. When he finally opened his eyes, a Mandalorian face was staring down at him: his helmet, his face, same as all the others, sitting on a shelf across the room. It gave him no indication of what it thought of this situation. _Typical_ , he thought.

There was no sign of the kid, but he recognized the safety of his own ship, the familiar hard cot there when he leaned his head back down. It was still dark; he couldn’t have been out for more than an hour or two. 

His hand went to rub his face just to confirm that it was there. His throat burned, most of his armor was off, and there was the odd sensation of his lips tingling or being...bruised? It wasn’t clear. 

His hand combed into his hair and stayed there. He should be distraught, raging, something. But most of all, he just felt tired, too weary to even begin thinking about any of this. There was the kid’s panic when they were separated, his parents, Sek, Gideon, that Thing in the cloak, Neera avoiding him, Neera slipping a hand through his hair, Neera moving objects with her goddamn mind...and then the kid desperately tugging at him while he was struggling for air. 

He turned to look back at the helmet. The helmet stared back at him. It already felt surprisingly separate from him. 

_Too much._ _Too much had happened_ , he thought. He just wanted to rest, anything to avoid thinking for now.

He tilted his head back. Neera’s foot was visible just outside the door, tapping at a furious pace. She must have pulled up a chair to sit against the wall outside, back to him. He watched as she lifted an arm to rub her forehead, brought it back down, then immediately did it again. 

Her satchel sat at her feet, all packed and ready to go if necessary. He wondered how many decades she’d been dragging that weight around with her. 

“Where is he?” he broke in. 

The foot stopped tapping.

There was a brief pause. “He’s fine,” she answered from the other side of the wall. “He’s up in the cockpit, still passed out,” she explained, her tone business-like. “He used all his strength to send that thing down into the chasm.”

“Are we safe?” he continued through the motions.

“For now,” she confirmed. “Apparently, there was an assault at multiple entrances; it was close, but the base managed to push them back. They are going to search the chasm when it’s light out.”

He had stopped paying attention right after she said they were safe. Instead, he swung his legs over the side and pulled himself to sit up. 

She cleared her throat. 

“No one else saw,” she said carefully. “You could put it back on. No one else would know,” she said, but her matter-of-fact tone was starting to show cracks.

He sighed, dropping his hand from where it absentmindedly tapped on his lips. 

“...you can take the darksaber,” she continued. “I’ve been thinking you should be the one to take it anyways.” 

He scooched forward to pull up next to where she sat by the door.

“Neera…” he started, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. She wouldn’t look at him.

“It’s a longshot, but—”

“Neera,” he repeated, angling his head when she tried to avoid his eye-line. 

“It’s done,” he said simply. 

She stared at him, mystified for a moment at seeing his voice match his face, and then she crumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” she broke. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, repeating it over and over again. She compulsively reached for his hands like she couldn’t help herself. “He was screaming for you, and you weren’t breathing.” Her hands flitted from his hands to the sore spot on his throat. The feeling of her fingertips on his neck made him tense. She sucked in a breath when he straightened, restraining herself enough to withdraw her hands to instead rest on his shoulders. 

He looked at her as she swallowed, face a mixture of worry and guilt, and something else bubbling up under the surface that she was struggling to restrain. There was a memory of her urging him to think about why she was there, flicking away a blaster without touching it. She dared another glance at him, searching his face like she was frustrated that she still couldn’t read what he was thinking. He didn’t really know what to tell her.

“You didn’t tell me something,” he pointed out flatly.

A soft laugh escaped her. “I know,” she sighed. “Bad habit,” she said apologetically. “Gotta hide the real face, right?” Her hand reflexively reached up to brush a lock of hair from his face. 

He didn’t move. Instead, he hung there and watched her, a perplexed look on her face when she raised her hand to do it again, pushing back a messy wave of hair. 

When her hand returned again to brush behind his ear, he found his head leaning into it, closing his eyes and letting her fingertips slip down to the roots to run along his scalp. The touch felt like instant relaxation.

Some kind of relieved sob slipped out of her. 

He peeked open one eye from where he rested in her hand. “You’re smiling,” he pointed out. 

She shook her head, “I’m not,” she said, trying to bite it back and failing miserably.

He turned his face in her palm to squint at her. “Yes, you are.”

“I’m not,” she repeated, blatantly lying before slipping her hand to the side of his face, fingertips pushing hair behind his ear.

He gave a frustrated huff. 

Her thumb skimmed along his cheek. “I’m not,” she said again.

He let out another huff...then another, his head giving a restless shift against her hand.

There were so many other things he needed to bring up. But instead, he turned his cheek further into her palm, taking in the novel sensation of the scent of someone close. Another shift of the head brought her thumb over the edge of his lips, and he felt his stomach tighten in response. He glanced up, watching her intent expression as she moved a thumb to brush across both lips.

She looked up to see him watching her and made a pained noise. 

“Have you been looking at me like that the whole time?” she asked.

He didn’t say anything, just continued to study her while she moved the other hand to his cheek as well. His only response was to let his lips part slightly as her thumb passed across them again. 

She let out a dry laugh, then leaned forward to replace her thumb with a light press of her lips. 

The feeling of the kiss took up the entire foreground, and he felt it in his gut more than anywhere else. He watched her when she pulled away, the touch somehow still there even after she had gone.

She bent to do it again. This time he noticed the surprising softness of the lips, feeling how his lips cradled hers while she lightly teased them apart, the rest of his body seemingly reacting as well. He got a hint of floral citrus from that favorite fruit he had brought her and then an edge of mint tea. 

She pulled away again, watching him, considering something. Her expression shifted, turning to a frown as a look of acceptance passed over her. He was waiting for her to return with another press of her lips when he realized he hadn’t moved this entire time. 

She nodded something to herself and shifted to get up when he grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand to stay where it was while pulling the rest of her onto his lap. She gave a frustrated curse—something about damn Mandalorians—quickly returning to clasp his face between both hands, deciding to screw it and kiss him as deeply as she wanted. A small noise escaped him, and his lips parted before he could even think about it.Every ounce of his attention was taken up by the mixture of hard and soft movements, her hands digging into his hair as he pulled her onto the cot with him. The sudden glimpse of something warm and wet just past her lips made him stumble, elbows bracing against the bed while the rest of his weight fell into her. There was the vague sense of kicking off clothes, suddenly needing as much skin as possible, pressed up against her, hand pulling on her hip and then thigh as she wrapped around him. Her body started to impatiently move against him, but all of it took a background to the kiss—that and the humming noise she made with every exhale. His hand was tangled up in her hair, the other keeping her hand firmly against his neck, refusing to let her move it every time she attempted to reach down for him. 

She finally had to take over, rolling on top and sweeping her hair to the side before bending back down. He gave an impatient sigh while she slid her hands from his chest to his neck and then into his hair, tilting back his head to kiss him more slowly. The sigh turned to a groan when her body started to graze against him whenever she shifted, the movement becoming more purposeful each time she ran along his length. 

That feeling started to fill the background behind the pull of her lips, a growing discomfort every time she slid against him. It was getting to be too much to bear when she reached down for him, her mouth parting against his at the effort and relief of taking him in. A pained sound escaped him. It felt so different from any time before, all the other sensations building up around it, supporting it: her hands on chest, combing past his ear, her mouth opening against his every time she bore down on him. 

She managed to keep up the kiss for a bit, but there was a moment she had to break away, pushing back to bear it. Seeing her stretched out in front of him, having to bite her lip, made him want to tease her, return it. But when he attempted to sit up and reach for her, she pushed him back down. The second time he tried, she did it again. She bent down to kiss him instead, as if she was trying to give him anything and everything he needed as some sort of consolation, still too guilty to take anything in return. 

He let out a frustrated noise. _Fuck that_ , he thought. After all this, she had better enjoy this with him. 

Sitting up again, he locked her hands behind her back, keeping them there with one hand while the other twisted in her hair, tilting her head back. He watched her breath come in faster as he explored the exposed length of her neck, behind her ear, then drifting down her throat to her collarbone. A panicky exhale escaped her when he dropped his grip and took her in his mouth, teasing the tip while her hands grasped the back of his head. All the while, she kept rocking up against him, her hand moving to dig into his bare shoulder as she grew more needy. Her desperation just spurned him on, clutching at her hips with one hand, the other slipping in to press on her at the same time. There was a sudden shift when one of her hands braced against the wall, grasping at it as she moved faster. That finally drove his attention from everything else, dropping both hands to her hips to more forcefully guide the push and pull of her movements, unable or unwilling to stop. Her hand twisted against him as he drove her harder, and she hurriedly bent down to try and kiss him as she felt herself right at the edge of coming. Seeing her tense under him just brought him over the top, finding himself peaking soon after her before finally relenting his grip. 

Swallowing a breath, she hung off him for a moment before rolling to the side, arm falling to drape across her face. They both lay there, catching their breaths before the room became noticeably quiet. 

He looked over at her. Her hair was damp with sweat, cheeks still flushed. He could see her swallow, arm still her covering eyes.

He turned back to stare at the ceiling. “You can say you wanted this,” he pointed out.

There was a disapproving sound in response.

He sat up on an elbow to look over where she leaned away from him. A noticeable scar ran along her hip. He studied the jagged line over the curves and then decided to bend down to kiss it. 

A pained groan escaped her.

“You wanted this,” he pointed out again, making his point by leaning farther forward to kiss the inside of her hip. 

Her body balked under him, and she shook her head from under her arm, “Not actually,” she protested. “Not really.”

He squinted at her. It hadn’t even been a day since she had been slipping her hands under the helmet, coyly warning him that she would eventually want to take it off.

“Say it,” he coaxed her. 

“No,” she responded stubbornly.

He slipped a hand past her hip, reaching in to goad her with a light touch. 

“Say it,” he repeated softly.

He could see her bite her lip as he added more pressure, rolling away from him but also further into his hand.

He leaned against her, pulling her hair away from her shoulder.

“Say you wanted this,” he repeated.

She clutched at the frame of the cot in front of her, still obstinately refusing while he continued to needle at her. At one point, she tried to distract him by reaching back for a kiss. He denied her, taking her hand to press it back against the cot, leaning his weight further against her. With each touch, she squirmed under him, unable to decide between bearing down on his hand and pushing back against him. He kept her from turning around, pushing her down further, touching her every way but the way she wouldn’t admit to wanting. He could see her face flushed. He asked her again, and she refused, choosing to instead muzzle herself in the cot in front of her. Arms wrapped tight around her, he kept her right to the edge, refusing to give her satisfaction until she admitted it.

“...yes,” she finally whimpered into the cot, “Yes,” she repeated with a groan. “I wanted it,” she yelled, crying out when he finally buried himself into her neck while she came for the second time.

He turned her back over, taking the lead on the kiss this time, leaning into it while he was still feeling eager for more. She stopped him with a short laugh in protest, still too sensitive. Instead, she pushed him over, a hint of her teasing finally peeking back up to the surface.

She immediately bent down to kiss him where he was far too sensitive, making him jolt in reaction. Her hand caught him when he tried to slow her. 

“Maybe...,” she started, grabbing his other hand and pulling them both above his head to wrap them around the edge of the cot, “I just really enjoyed watching you demonstrate restraint.” 

She kissed him then, making sure he kept his hands where they were, then went back down to see how much he could take. Inching her way up while he tensed and arched under her, she only stopped when she reached what had been the boundary of his helmet. There, she finally crawled on top and eased back down onto him. She slid her hands from his chest up to his neck, watching him try and maintain his composure as she repeatedly lowered herself onto him, enjoying watching the tone of his chest and arms as he strained against the cot. Each time she edged a little farther past the old boundary, slipping a hand into his hair, nipping lightly at his ear, slipping her tongue inside his mouth when she kissed him. But still, he managed to keep his self-control. In the end, she was the one begging, asking him to come with her when he finally relented. 

She collapsed on top of him, hair sprawled across his chest while they both lay there, completely melted. She made herself get up only to pull the top sheet out from under them and toss it on the floor to deal with it later. Laying back down, she enjoyed listening to his heartbeat as it slowed back down to a steady pace, letting it guide her own as she relaxed into him.

She could feel the haze of sex lifting, the easy distraction from thinking about anything else. Her eyes idly drifted over to spot her satchel, still sitting on the ground, ready to go. She absentmindedly wondered what resentments would still be waiting for her once this had passed. 

That was fine, she told herself. He could still tell her to leave later. Until then, she would take what she could get. She untucked a strand of hair stuck under her and laid back down against her chest. 

The feeling of his hand straightening a few strands of her hair made her freeze, not daring to move as he tried out combing a hand through her hair. It felt defiant somehow—like he was realizing he might as well do what he wants instead of the usual stoicism. 

At the third stroke, she broke, wrapping her arms tight around him as she buried her head against him. He seemed surprised for a moment, then dropped his arms back down to return it, stroking along her back until they both relaxed into sleep.


	23. Chapter 22

Neera stared at the cup of water on the other side of the room. There was no way she was getting up for it. He was still asleep at her back, pressed against her hair, one dense arm draped over her. There was a blanket covering them; he must have gotten up and pulled it over them at some point in the night. 

Her eyes narrowed at the cup. She was better at a quick push than a slow and steady pull. Focusing, she managed to float the cup to her hand, only a few sloshes spilling out along the way. 

By the time she brought it to her lips, she could tell he was awake and watching her. She turned and offered to share.

It was hard to resist the temptation to study him as he took a sip. His hair was a mess, clearly cut by himself for years. There was the tentative look of trying out eating and drinking in front of someone else. She could still remember how weird that had felt the first few times.

His eyes flashed to her with a self-conscious double-take as he drank. _Brown eyes_ , she thought, before making herself turn away.

"Want more?" she asked, gesturing at the cup.

He glanced at the trail of water already pooled on the floor. "No, I'm good," he said. "How long have you known you could do that?” he asked, moving the attention to her while she took the empty cup back.

She shrugged, obliging, ”It was gradual. It came out when I was really challenged in training.”

“And that’s why you had to leave?” he asked. She liked seeing how the lines on his forehead creased while he was trying to think through something. 

She turned to place the cup on the floor, staying face-down with an arm draped over the side to avoid the temptation of staring.

“Sort of,” she explained. “I just made the mistake of using it against the wrong man the first time I showed it.” 

There was a short laugh, and she could hear the raised eyebrow. “Did you actually try to assassinate Pre Vizsla?” His voice was a mixture of impressed amusement and scolding. 

“No,” she sighed, “but Paz did...or he beat me to it anyways. He always was a glory hound.”

His hand slowed where it had been trailing her back, and she could tell he was confused. She rolled back over to eye the neutral ceiling instead, allowing herself to settle in under his hand. 

“Supposedly,” she started in a wry tone, “anyone who won the darksaber in combat took over leadership of the Clan. Pre allowed anyone to challenge him for it,” she explained. “It was a joke really; no one ever did it except for some doomed rival who was forced into it for show.”

She gave a rueful laugh. “I was so sure I should be the one to do it,” she admitted. “Some grandiose notion that I would be the next Tarre Vizsla, the one Mandalorian Jedi who first owned the blade,” she said with a mocking gesture. “Just a cocky teenager, really. As if I was somehow fated to be the one to save everyone from the shit that had gone so wrong.”

She squinted at his hand, picking it up to study it with a thumb over his palm. 

“But I guess I spent too much time preparing or just mulling over the consequences. Then Paz up and did it. Fucking 15-year-old kid, totally out of the blue, challenges the iron-fisted leader of the clan,” she shook her head, swallowing. “And we were supposed to just stand there and watch.”

“He actually did pretty well,” she admitted. “Even managed to knock the darksaber out of Pre’s hand. But then Pre just went for him, throttling the life out of him.” She frowned. “I had brought the darksaber to my hand and at Pre’s throat before I knew what I was doing. I just wanted him to stop, but everyone who was there saw what I could do.”

“It didn’t feel like how I had imagined it, whatever ‘look’ was on their faces. I dropped the sword and stormed off when I realized what I had done. My father found me first; pushed me on a ship and made me leave immediately.”

“I took it as a rejection for a long time. Looking back, he was probably just trying to keep me alive. It wasn’t the wisest choice to bruise the great leader’s ego when it was so easy to cast me off as some Jedi ‘enemy’ to be hunted down. Then I had to go and remove my helmet when I was arguing with my dad, trying to convince him that I was just his daughter. Ruined any option of coming back. He was so pissed when I did that,” she added with a sad smile. 

She stretched out his hand, suddenly thinking, “That ship he threw me on was so well-stocked, supplies for an entire family, somehow already ready to go as if for a quick getaway. It’s like we each had our own plans to fix things and didn’t think to tell each other. Can’t imagine what my dad was thinking.” She paused to look over at him. “Just be glad that kid doesn’t seem close to becoming an overconfident teenager any time soon.”

“And Paz?” he asked.

Rubbing her face, she shrugged. “I was surprised to find out he was even still alive. Things couldn’t have been good for them after that. Maybe they just killed my father instead.” She paused to consider it. “I have no idea what Paz has thought happened all the time. He was unconscious for most of it; they could have told him anything. He probably thinks I just took off to go join the Jedi. Maybe he thinks I abandoned him. Either way, he probably wants to clear up which one of us really ‘won’ the darksaber. The big ox always did want his moment of glory.” 

Din had stayed silent listening, thinking on it for a bit before he tentatively spoke. “Did you ever think that maybe his idea of ‘glory’ was saving his big sister from doing it herself?”

That made her frown. “What? No,” she said quickly. “He just liked the idea of winning the darksaber. He had no idea what I was planning. The only one who even knew what I could do was my trainer, and he wouldn’t have dared to say anything. No…” she repeated, but she seemed lost in thought after that. 

“And the Jedi?” Din finally asked, hesitant to hear the answer.

“I did meet a few. Once,” she said. “They were on the road picking up some young students.” There was a brief flash of melancholy or regret before she turned it into a sheepish smile. “I may have, uh, hesitated to join them when I learned about their rules on celibacy.”

He laughed, “Sounds about right.”

“Hey,” she protested. “I was 17 and had just gotten a sample of life without the armor. Sue me,” she said, rolling back into him to make her point. 

She paused there. “They were all massacred less than a year later,” she said, looking confused. “All of them. I still don’t really understand what happened. After that, I tried to go back home, but then the Siege happened before I could get there. Managed to eventually smuggle my way home just to find it burnt out and everyone gone. Was picked up for looting when I looked for any sign of their armor. Though a year or two in prison wasn’t the worst place to be when falling into a depression and being unsure what to do with yourself anymore.”

He moved his hand along her arm with the poorly covered prison tattoo. “That’s a long sentence for looting.”

She laughed. “I may have done some damage when I tried to get away long enough to stash my armor. Probably should have stayed longer, but I left when I had a reason to.”

She sighed. “I thought I was destined to be some great warrior, but somehow I managed to miss both of the fights that mattered.” She sighed. “I should have been there.”

“I was there,” he pointed out. “You couldn’t have changed the outcome.”

“Yeah, but I could have gone down fighting instead of floating around the galaxy aimlessly. Never did find any more Jedi after that, no training, no skills, just a bunch of myths and rumors and the same old textbooks. As far as I knew, there were none left. So much for being Tarre Vizsla, come again. Instead, I just ended up as a non-Mandalorian with a few neat tricks and no real use for them.” She let out an exasperated groan at the pity party, losing herself in a cathartic stretch instead of rehashing the same old thoughts. 

He raised his eyebrows while she buried herself in his shoulder. “We could have used those neat tricks a few times in the past week or so.”

She gave him a look. 

“You’ve been using them this whole time, haven’t you?” he realized.

“Just in a pinch. I'm still better with a blaster,” she admitted.

She could tell by the look on his face that he was rehashing every fight in his head. 

“Did you know what he could do when you took him in?” she asked hesitantly.

He seemed to notice her hopeful tone and nodded slowly. “But I didn’t know what it meant,” he admitted. Realizing something, he squinted at her. “Did you know when you first started following us?”

She shook her head. “No. That was quite a surprise.”

“All this time searching the galaxy for Jedi, and then you stumble on one under the care of a Mandalorian?”

She laughed. “I may have developed a slight thing for you after that,” pretending to wince, squeezing her thumb and index finger together to squint at them. “Just a little bit.”

He made an incredulous sound. “Do you always try and aggravate a crush that much?” 

“Probably,” she admitted. “But, no, I was trying to keep my focus on other priorities.”

“The darksaber,” he nodded. 

She looked at him, then slowly shook her head. “No. I was pretty obsessed with it as a kid, sure. Now?” she shrugged, “I dunno; It seemed like something to do at the time.” She shook her head again. “No...I think I just needed to see you two do well together. A shiny Mandalorian and his Jedi foundling.” 

The thought made the guilt come right back when she looked at his now bare head. She reached up to fix a wave of his hair.

“It doesn’t have to be bad,” she assured him. “Everyone I know who lost the helmet had some other bigger reason for not going back. I would have still been able to try and help my family if I had only gotten back in time.”

He watched her, then shrugged. “It’s done. I’m still here for him; that’s all that matters. No point ruminating about it.

Hair still in her hand, she wrinkled her nose. “Such a Mandalorian response,” she teased.

He was still chewing on something, though. She waited, hand going back for another stroke through his hair. His eyes immediately closed in response as he leaned into it. She was going to have to take advantage of that more often. 

He shifted under her hand, hesitating. “I won’t have their support anymore,” he said.

“There will be some who turn a cold shoulder, but the good ones will still help you when they can,” she assured him. “It won’t be the same, but they’re not all completely cold.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “What else?” 

He chewed on his lip. “I can’t stop picturing Sek just sitting and waiting until my parents were slaughtered, and there would be a foundling available,” he admitted.

She nodded, thinking. “The leadership then was so dangerous because they knew how to take advantage of everyone’s best intentions. Not because of force or some sword. Once things started, the only way to stop the slaughter was to go and take out as many droids as possible before more civilians were killed. Most went with the honest intention to protect. I was too young to know Sek well, but from what I’ve heard, I’m guessing he fit into that category.” She hesitated. “Just like you probably didn’t end up with the kid under the noblest circumstances. It doesn’t mean you don’t care now.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “What else?” she asked again.

Glancing up towards the cockpit, he hesitated longer this time. “He may not recognize me,” he finally said. “It would be like I just left him, and a stranger took my place.”

She smiled this time. “The armor’s not that thick. He’ll know it’s you,” she reassured him. “I can go get him if it makes it easier.”

He hesitated. 

She pinched a lock of hair. “But you should know...you’ve been doing a terrible job of cutting your hair; you’ve been missing this piece for a while now. Also, I recommend getting some protection from the sun. I spent my first few weeks completely burned.”

There was a soft laugh in response, though he still seemed distracted. His hand started absentmindedly running along her hip while he was lost in thought.

When his touch started to wander, she had to shift under him. Clearing her throat, she raised an eyebrow at his hand. “Some other questions or pent up fantasies on your mind before I go and see if he’s awake?” she teased. 

His eyes flashed towards her. He seemed to realize what he was doing, though his hand still lingered. 

“Share the hot water, perhaps?” she added.

The temptation was there for a minute, but then he seemed to steel himself. “Better not,” he decided. “He’ll be up soon.”

There was a familiar turn to her voice. “You sure?” she goaded him. “Hot water only lasts 3 minutes. I’m sure we could be quick.”

He watched as she tauntingly stroked and then kissed his shoulder. He was getting used to her game of goading him into demonstrating his resolve.

“No,” he said, keeping the practical tone. “I’ll just want to lay you on that table and try going down on you for the first time, and I’m really looking forward to taking my time when I do that.”

He could feel her pause against his shoulder, hovering there while she contemplated that. Then pushed off him with a sharp sigh, muttering some curse while she got up to shower alone. 

“What was that?” he called out innocently.

“Nothing,” she grumbled back. 

When she finally went up to the cockpit, he could hear her muffled voice as she tried to wake the kid. He pulled up a chair, sat, and waited. The room now felt uncomfortably quiet while he sat there. He rubbed his face, one hand trying to comb through his hair. The one strand Neera had pointed out immediately fell out of place again, and he gave up, forcing himself to just sit there and wait. 

Neera’s feet appeared at the top of the ladder, carefully working her way down with one arm occupied. He saw her shoulder come into view, and then the flash of pale green in her arms as she turned toward him. 

The kid still looked half-asleep, rubbing his eyes while she set him down. He looked miserable; his eyes looked red and still stamped with that mournful sadness. 

When he finally opened up his eyes and saw Din, he ran over as fast as his legs could manage, crossing the room to latch onto Din’s leg. 

“Ma-di!” he squeaked out in a tiny voice.

Din reached down to pick up, slipping in a questioning look at Neera while the kid reached around to hug him.

She winced. “We’re still working on your name,” she explained.

He managed a relieved half-laugh while the kid clung to him. They stayed there for a bit while Neera gave them space. After a beat, the kid leaned back to place a hand curiously on his face, studying the new look. He made his happy “Kwap” sound, hugged him again, then wiggled to be let down, tottering to the table and looking back to make sure Din was following. 

The kid eagerly scrambled up to the table when he saw that Neera had already laid out some food. When Din walked up to take in the three place settings, she reached out to offer him a section of the meiloorun fruit to share. He took it, tentatively sat down to join them, and watched them settle into some familiar routine. 

As soon as the kid was done with eating, he looked at Neera with anticipation. She finally relented, placing the silver ball on the table. The kid immediately started to use his powers to roll the ball around the table, occasionally raising it up to juggle it in the air. Din watched as Neera floated up an empty cup, offering it to the kid as a target.

The kid finally managed to land the ball in the cup when Neera clamped it down against the table, trapping the ball inside. Din watched as the kid frowned, his face scrunching up as he focused on lifting it back up, Neera appearing to remain completely placid. The cup wiggled and strained, and finally, Neera relented, collapsing back in her seat with a curse as the kid forced the cup over to free the silver ball. He immediately rolled it around towards her, looking to play again. 

She noticed Din watching them both. 

“He wins every time,” she complained, but a bit of pride in her voice. 

The ball rolled into a metal cylinder sitting on the table. The kid immediately became enamored with the new shiny object, scooching up to it and then looking expectantly at Din and Neera.

Din studied the simple, unassuming metal cylinder that was supposedly some great weapon. “So this is it?” he asked skeptically.

Neera smiled. “Here, let me show you.” 

She picked up some scrap metal, then turned around, looking for his old beskar armor the kid had rummaged up. Laying them both on the edge of the table, she took the cylinder and took his hand to hold it with her.

She looked at one end, hesitated, then looked at the other as if unsure which way to hold it.

Din raised an eyebrow at her uncertainty.

“It’s been a while since I’ve used it,” she defended herself. Looked at it again, she flipped it around in his hand, encouraged them to step back from the other end just in case, then pressed a button on the side. 

A shimmering black blade of light appeared in front of them.

He looked at it with fascination. It shimmered at the edges, but the rest was black, seeming to absorb the light. The kid was watching his reaction as he studied it. 

Neera guided his hand to slice the first piece of scrap metal; it slid through like butter, leaving one half clattering on the floor. 

She then moved to the beskar. The blade glanced off it, leaving only a scar of burnished looking metal, but it remained intact.

He could tell she was enjoying watching his reaction to the beskar.

He looked over at her.

“Wanna fight?” she asked playfully. 

He laughed, then looked down at something on the floor, thinking. Bending down, he picked up her satchel and tossed it to her.

“Let’s go,” he said, picking up his helmet and turning to walk outside, the kid happily following after. 

One corner of the bag had flipped up to reveal her old beskar helmet underneath. She looked at it hesitantly, turning briefly to watch them as they both continued on their way. With a dry laugh, she took the helmet out of the bag, stashed it under her arm along with the darksaber, and followed them both out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An exercise in contrast to Season 1 Chapter 4: If some woman is going to suggest removing the helmet, she should be someone who fully understands what that means. 
> 
> Part II in series has additional small prequels, sequels, and other small snippets that did not quite fit anywhere else. I will probably continue to add to Part II whenever something pops into my head.


End file.
